Thief Games
by MurdererInTheNight
Summary: ROMY- Remy and Rogue run away for a little alone time, but a something happens to ruin it. Each try to solve the mystery in their own ways, and get more unexpected answers than they want.
1. Aftershock

Disclaimer: I do not own X men or any of the characters! Not what everyone wants to hear, but that's the rule around here..

As far as I know, this fic is original.

Thief games

Chapter 1: Aftershock

"….He's still in shock. Got any more brilliant ideas?"

Remy LeBeau stared around miserably in the darkness of the room, muttering incoherently to himself.

Rogue bit her lip, which was already well-chewed up from stressing over the new problem that had surfaced recently. Remy. She dug her nails into the side of her thigh to keep from screaming with frustration.

Kitty's high-pitched whisper- Rouge always wondered how her pitch could be that high even in a whisper- came back on the phone. "You know, like, maybe he's still getting used to you," she chirped.

Rogue really felt like tearing her hair out at that line. "Ya mean that mah boyfriend's still getting used tah me after two years? Kitty, Ah swear, once I get back to the Institute I'm gonna pull out your teeth with Logan's pliers!" Rogue slammed the phone down on it's cradle. It made a dull thwack as it bounced off and fell on the floor. She turned around to look at Remy, who was now making strange gestures, digging his hands in his pockets, and taking them out, looking at them, again and again. Again and again.

Rogue stalked over to the curtains and ripped them apart, causing Remy to turn around in surprise. He blinked slowly in the sunlight streaming through the windows, then merely turned around and started the put-my-hand-in-my-own-pocket-and-pick-it game again. Rogue tried to keep her frustration in check, but she wanted to throw something at him this time. Ever since they had come back from their previous walk around town he had been in this state. Like he was trapped in his pockets. It was maddening enough that he wouldn't eat, talk, or move from the bed where he had been sitting for the past day. He wouldn't even indulge in his favourite pastime: playing cards. He seemed almost traumatized. Rogue loved Remy too much to let him be miserable like this, but now a part of her was wanting leave him in the middle of nowhere and run away.

If he loved her enough, he would come after her. He'd always want to be with her.

Or something like that.

They came here just for this- to be alone, to be there for each other, to be together… away from the SNIKT! of adamantium claws and sniggers and jealous looks of the other girls at the institute. Mostly to be away from Logan. It had been amusing, telling him that it was torturing Remy to be with her, that they were just friends, but now he was really getting on her nerves.

Ah, Remy and Rogue- together. She thought. Perfect, she reflected sadly as she watched Remy's muscular form start to rock back and forth over the bed.

Rogue edged over to him. "Hey swamp rat," she whispered. "Why won'tcha talk? I really need tah hear your damned voice again…the one Ah hear so much of everyday anyway.." Rogue paused a moment, wondering whether he was listening to her. "Well, apparently, yah don't trust me enough to let me help ya, but Ah'm tellin' ya Swamp rat, I'm gonna-"

_Brrriiiiiiiiiiing….._

Rogue broke off in mid-sentence and walked over to the fallen phone, scowling horribly. If it was Kitty, she was going to pick up. She desperately needed someone to talk to- even if it was pep tonic Kitty.

Leaning against the wall, she picked up the phone and started examining her nails.

"Uh, Kitty-" she began.

"Rogue, I think I figured it out!" Kitty blurted out. "He's like totally cheating on you!"

"What?!! ya-" Rogue slammed the phone down again, fuming.

Cheating on her…. Could Kitty be right? If he was too guilty to tell her, well, then, _maybe_.

But that didn't explain the pocket stuff. What was in his pocket? What did his hand want to take out? What wasn't he telling her?

"Ah gonna figure this out," she said to herself. She turned around to look at Remy. He was now staring at the wall with a blank expression.

Rogue cleared her throat loudly.

Remy muttered to himself again.

Rogue cleared her throat again.

He just looked at his hands.

Rogue picked up a vase.

Remy put his hand in his pocket again….

Rogue threw the vase like a baseball.

…..and took it out, bending to retrieve the fallen wallet….

The vase crashed against the wall, fragments dropping like beads of a necklace onto the floor. Remy didn't look up.

Rogue gasped in sudden realization. Her mouth dropped open like dustbin lid.

_Remy's wallet was empty. _

She suddenly understood what was wrong with Remy. Something had happened. Something very unusual. Even though nothing with Remy was ordinary, now this had to be a first. His pocket had been picked. No wonder he was in shock- he thought no could beat him in that department! He was supposed to be the best!

For a moment, Rogue had an urge to laugh. But Remy looked so sad, she didn't want to hurt his feelings even more. Still, it was an oddly ridiculous thing to be upset about. The best had been beaten… by someone just as good or better.

"There's someone better out there…" she said aloud thoughtfully. Rogue walked out of the hotel room, nearly crashing into a room service trolley with her preoccupied mind.

In the room, Remy just mumbled.

************

right.... I know this is short and a bit stupid, but I beg everyone who stares at this screen to review! I could use some feedback to improve, and I've got longer chapters planned.


	2. Inside and Out

Thank you soooo much for the positive, sweet reviews. They had me breathless and all tingly for hours! And don't worry about what was stolen, that will soon be revealed… I'll let your imagination fill in those blanks.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em…

**Thief Games**

Chapter 2: My Dumb Day

'Wherdigo?' Remy mumbled to himself. 'Must be here someplace. Gotta find it. ' Remy carefully put his hands in his pockets, felt around and took out his wallet. Opening it, he examined each and every one of its sections, running his fingers along the cracked imitation leather. Hmm… he was rich enough to buy a real leather wallet, why didn't he have one?

"Can't think about dat now… got more important things to get for myself." Or rather for his favourite belle femme…

She was sitting beside him, whispering something to him, but he just couldn't bring himself to listen to what she was saying. After a minute he felt the bedsprings creak and expand as Rogue's petite form got up. Remy wanted to throw out an arm and throw it around her, stop her from leaving him alone, pull her to him, and ki-

Nooo, he couldn't let himself get carried away! He simply had to find it, those precious contents of his wallet. Someone had simply fished it out of his pocket, taken his honour, pride and life from him along with his money and-

The world in front of him seemed to waver and turn into a blurry haze. His hand trembled and the wallet in his limp hand fell down. A tear trickled down his cheek. With a start, Remy realized he was crying! "'m can't let my Rogue see m' cry! Gotta pull m'self together. Dammit, y' _coyoon,_ why can't y' do anythin' right?"

And with an unsteady, shaking hand he bent down to pick his empty wallet.

He had a vague feeling that at that moment, something had just whizzed over his head and hit the opposite wall. Seconds later, Rogue gasped. Remy straightened up and started to turn it over and over in his calloused hands. That heavy blanket sadness that settled over him, seemed to get heavier and heavier with each passing minute. Moments later, he had another blurry view of Rogue's toned, svelte legs storm past him and out of the room. Again, before his mind could wander - as soon as he was sure she was gone- Remy LeBeau burst into tears like any three year old kid.

*

Meanwhile…

Rogue casually sauntered past all the people, who seemed to be recognizing her as a mutant. Some of them even avoided her and walked over to the other side of the street. Rogue sighed and pulled at her right glove. She was itching to use her powers right now. But the problem was the psyche residue that would be left behind; they would cause a ton of trouble. How could she put up with doubles – one in her mind and the other in her everyday life? Kitty? Or Jean? Or Pyro? How about Magneto? Or maybe even perverted Bobby Drake?

Rogue gritted her teeth and tried not to think about her untouchable-ness, that was obviously the bane of her existence. But no matter how much she would avoid thinking about it, she would wonder. Her own poison skin taunted her and her only fear was what these thoughts of other people would do. Probably, claw out at her head, rise above her memories, and drown out the sense of individuality that she was enjoying so much nowadays, nearly four years after Apocalypse had purged her mind.

But there was one thing she truly dreaded.

If she ever absorbed an anti-mutant crazy person, they would react with other psyches she could absorb. Only one word would be able describe the complete chaos in her head: _Clash._

Regretfully, Rogue pulled up her glove again.

And here, she would have her own Romeo and Juliet story, if she didn't pay enough attention to Remy.

Rogue grimaced and tried not to think about _that_.

Now that she wasn't distracted by her own thoughts, she began to wonder about Remy. Who was brave enough to steal from him? Obviously, they knew Remy was a thief, because nothing escaped from Remy. Not even the sliding of a hand into a glove, no matter how slowly she did it. He had been trained to notice the smallest detail, and probably only someone as good at him –or better- could infiltrate his Fort Knox of a body.

But it was just one pocket picked, what was so important he lost? _Ah mean_, _it was just money right?_ What else there could be? Rogue curved around a parking meter and absentmindedly headed into one of many snack bars on the side of the street. It was the café they both had been to yesterday for breakfast. Above her, the skyscrapers of New York were pins jabbing into the sky.

_The funniest thing is_, Rogue smiled to herself, _that we're right under their noses and nobody knows that!_

Now that was odd, since the X men, and Logan especially, had their ways of finding the people they wanted, may it be their own, or an enemy. Rogue and Remy had discussed this before deciding where to go and ended up staying in Bayville. _The most boring, perfect place on Planet Earth_. Rogue's thoughts drifted off to that day as she ordered a coffee….

Remy had come into her room in the middle of the afternoon, knocking and asking for her permission just like a gentleman. Not that he was ever denied entrance into her room nowadays, they had become very close to each other after he had joined the X men. It didn't matter either, because as he went everywhere he wanted, he loved to see what kind of reaction she would have in store for him. He just knew her so well.

"What'cha doin' dere, Roguey?" he flopped onto her bed with her. She was reading a book, _The Kite Runner_, he absently noted. By Khaled Hosseini.

Rogue didn't reply, just turned a page, which she was sure she hadn't absorbed at all. He room had become strangely airless, she noted. Remy was smiling at her, that loving, wistful smile that made her heart vanish with its quickening pace. She tried to take a breath, and said in a cracked voice: "Reading." She turned another page with unnecessary force.

"_Non_, 'm meant, what'cha doin' behind that book? Y' seem lost back dere…"

Remy's husky, musical voice, with that accent. It was enough to make her mind start to cloud and make her think of-

"Whaddaya want? Ah'm just reading here." She managed to reply defensively as the hazy cloud of disembodiment threatened to take her back into her fanciful mind. Stupid head!

"Remy was thinkin'," he drawled, lazily spreading his fingers over the side of her thigh. Rogue tried to flinch away, but her mind seemed to stop responding to what she wanted. She swallowed hard.

"What?" she managed to snap over the distraction.

"Dat we should, y' know, maybe, get together someplace eh? Just de two o' us, awrite?" he winked at her, and slid away to stand up. Rogue regretted that.

"Why are ya askin' me now? The last time ya wanted us to 'get away' ya didn't really care about what Ah thought!" she said, almost as bitter over him kidnapping her as she was for him for moving away from her now.

He grimaced and said, "Dat was years ago _cherie_, don' tell _moi_ y' still upset about dat!"

Remy went down on his knees on the floor, and said, "Si'l-vous-plait?"

Rogue tried not to look at him. His red on black eyes were crinkled up in the cutest puppy dog expression she had ever seen,and just looking at them made her want to scream out, "OKAY!"

Remy waited, balancing on one knee.

Rogue silently stared at him.

As the silence stretched on, Remy suddenly said, "Well, if y' don't want t' go, 's okay, and dere's always more chances... 's a free country..."

Rogue watched him get up and walk to the door. Her thoughts raced in her head.

She wanted him with her… and _Well, this seems like a good opportunity._ She silently thought of all the things they could do, where they would go, hiding from Logan, and wait-

Logan.

Who cares?

"Do Ah get to pick where to go this time?" she asked coyly. Remy, who had been in the process of opening the door like a wounded soldier, turned around, grinning at her. He was at her side at an instant, lifting her up in his arms.

"'M knew dat y' would agree!" Remy said happily, and laughed.

Rogue, who had been hiding her face behind his shoulder, came to her senses soon enough before the unnaturally-good feel of his muscles rippling under his skin, brushing with _her _skin through the cotton shirt she was wearing could register and drag her away.

"Remy, what do we do about Logan? Do ya wanna be a shish kebab?" she asked as he abruptly stopped swinging her and lowered her to the bed. He moved up against her, so they were both leaning on each other's shoulder.

"No problem, m' got it all planned out. Dis is where de _petite_ comes in." he said. Now he was wearing his infamous, wicked, devilish grin. Rogue, who had been savoring the warmth of him against her, was brought back with an unpleasant bump. "Kitty? Y' mean her, don't cha?"

_Le Diable Blanc_, she thought. Whoever gave him that moniker was right.

He nodded and pulled him to her, hugging her. "'m so glad y' coming wit' m'. 'M don't know what t' say t' y'."

_Just say you love me_, Rogue though wistfully. _Ah know Ah love you_.

"Now 'm think if 'm wanna stay in one piece, we gotta go t' a place no one would even think of" he mused.

"Like what?" Rogue murmured. "New York?" she said sarcastically. "Right where everyone won't even think of looking for us?" She suddenly realized she was right.

"Well, now why didn't m' think o' dat before?" His teasing grin was back.

"Y' think Ah ain't smart enough?" she demanded, firing up instantly. She grabbed her book and hit him on his head. Remy cowered and quickly said, "'M think it's time to get Kitty now!..."

Rogue stopped concussing him and dropped the book.

"….after we talk a li'l more."

Rogue stared at him for minute, and then allowed herself to settle in his arms. "Y' know, cherie, dere's so much we can talk 'bout on dat trip." He murmured against her ear, and Rogue fought not to look up and say, "Just say you love me."

"Miss?" The waiter's voice brought her back to earth. Rogue stared at him dreamily for a moment, not taking in what he said.

"Miss! Would you like anything else to go with that coffee?"

Rogue looked up and said, " No thanks."

Fifteen minutes later she was walking back to the hotel in which she and Remy were staying.

On the way back she wondered whether Remy had come back to his senses. A tiny part of her said that someone in his condition would stay that way without professional help. Rogue swallowed that thought back along with the lump rising up her throat. Remy hated it when she cried.

*

Not too far behind, was the strange, shadowy figure that had been following them day and night. It leaped over rooftops, and stepped over gaps like puddles, with the look of someone who had trained all their life. As Rogue turned the corner and walked on, the figure leaped down and hurried after her.

******

Now you know what to do, just press that little button marked review. come on, it won't hurt!

Just a few things:

*The Kite Runner is my fav book, so is being held together by a few strings since I read it all the time.

* "Just say you love me." Yeah, from that old Superman movie. I had to put that in.


	3. A Little More Conversation

Disclaimer:I don't own the X men or any characters.........but someday I might. (hopefully). Marvel's not so eager to give them up!

Thief Games

Chapter 3: A Little More Conversation

At Xavier's Institute for the Gifted in New York....

Kitty and Kurt stared at each other across the table in the debriefing room.

Kurt blinked.

Kitty coughed.

Kurt looked bored.

Kitty coughed again.

Kurt scratched his head.

Some blue fur fell out, floating from him towards Kitty.

Kitty leaped up like her hair had been put on fire.

"Eeeeeeew!" she cried out, brushing her suit off. "Like, watch it! You've been doing that for _weeks_ now, Kurt, do you, like, shed hair in autumn? _It's gross_!"

The last part turned into a shrill screech as the hair burrowed itself deeper into Kitty's suit.

"Nein. I do not like shedding!" Kurt answered defensively. He 'bamfed' over to help Kitty.

"She was asking you if you do shed, not if you like shedding, Kurt." Jean started to help Kurt pull out the troublesome hairs.

Kitty stood there, teary-faced, ready to break down any moment now.

"Ahhh," he mumbled, scratching his head in apparent embarrassment. More blue fur came off to land on Kitty.

Kitty wailed loudly.

"I'm sorry, Kitty!" he mumble hastily as she pushed him away and strode to the opposite side of the room, as far as possible from Kurt. "I really am shedding!"

The others in the room- the New Mutants – snickered. Bobby, Ray and Roberto burst into laughter. The girls glared at them and rushed off to Kitty's side.

"Guys! It's not funny." Jean chastised, biting back a smile herself.

"Kurt! That was like totally rude! Not to mention mean!" Kitty shouted over at him over Rahne's head as the girl picked off the last of the hairs.

Everyone suddenly started talking at once.

"We're bored."

"We're tired of waiting."

"Logan isn't here to train us. You and One-Eye are supposed to be acting as subs!"

"Hey, where's Scott anyway?"

"Yeah, where's our Fearless Leader?"

"_Fearless Leader?_ Ray, did those Sentinels thump you in the head last Danger Room session? The one with Logan?"

"Uhhh, Sam? I thought _you_ were the one who hit them _yourself_?"

"Crashed, more like."

"Did you see me get them that day? I was faster than Fearless Leader-"

Roars of laughter.

"All right everyone! Listen up!"

"Speak of the devil…."

Chuckles.

"I know that since all of you are excited that Logan going away to find himself again, you will be even more excited to know that he's left instructions for a new training session."

Unfriendly mutters.

"Oh, and you will be happy to know he wants surveillance videos of what you do. You guys would probably want to be-"

Anywhere but here.

Scott turned to Kitty. "Shadowcat, where's Rogue and Gambit?"

Kitty turned away to hide her blush and said, "I haven't got a clue! Like, why should _I _always know? Do Rogue and Gambit ever tell anyone what they want to do?"

Scott groaned and went to find Professor Xavier, who was in an intense discussion with Ororo on the position of mutants in the society nowadays. It was going to be a long night.

As the door swung close behind him, screams and yells of happiness drowned out everything Jean Grey said, and was going to say from that moment onward.

***

Remy LeBeau tugged at his coat as he walked briskly out of the hotel. He had left behind a note for Rogue, who was not back yet.

"She prob'ly went out f'r something to eat. Remy could use somethin' t' eat himself." He thought.

Sighing, he scrubbed the tips of his fingers over his ruffled hair he hadn't combed for a couple of days yet. He also needed a shave very, very badly.

Halfway to café around the corner, he crashed into Rogue, who was walking back to the hotel.

At the sight of Remy up - even though he was still not smiling- Rogue gasped and threw herself on him in a hug, completely oblivious to the startled and amused stares of the passersby.

"Remy! You're back!" she said, holding on to him tight and at the same time trying not to crush his ribs.

"_Quoi_? Did y' think Remy would ever leave y' alone for too long?" he cocked an eyebrow at her. Rogue let go and beamed at him. He was speaking in the third person again, too. He _was _back.

"What was wrong with you? Ah didn't know what to do!" she said, holding back tears.

Remy waved his hand at her. "Nothing 'm couldn't handle. Just had t' pull myself t'gether."

Rogue felt her sanity giving way this time, and snapped at him: "Pull yourself together? Really swamp rat, you were sulking lahke somebody had died! Ah know what happened and ya don't need to feel bad about it!"

Remy stared at her, looking a little hurt.

Taking a deep breath, she continued: "Let's count down all your symptoms of 'just need to pull myself together'." She held up a gloved hand, fingers stretched out.

"One. You wouldn't eat." Thumb down.

"Two. You wouldn't sleep." Index finger down.

"Three. You wouldn't look at me." Middle finger down.

"Four. You had your hands glued to your pockets." Ring finger down.

"Five. Ya wouldn't even _talk_ to me." Little finger down.

The strained, hurt look still on his face, Remy took her hand in his before she could say another word and said quietly, "_Dieu_, don't start dis again, _cherie_. _S'il-vous-plait_. Remy's tired of fightin' wit' y' 'bout every li'l thing."

Rogue opened her mouth to snap at him again, then closed it, waiting for him to continue.

"De thing is," he said, gently taking her other hand too, "Y' know 'm left my past behind, _cherie_, but sometimes, things make memories come back. De bad ones." He added, now holding both her hands in both of his.

"Getting' my wallet picked was one of dem things, but 'm just gonna tell y' dis, Rogue. Something else got stolen along wit' the money, and it's pretty important. For m'."

"For us." He corrected.

Rogue swallowed. His face was becoming unreadable, but had he just said what she though he meant?

***

The dark shadow perched on the top of a low building watched as the couple turned and walked around the corner, hand in hand. A low growl like sound issued from the shadow's throat, shape twisting slightly as a passing car threw light on the solid mass.

***

"Y' think 'm need a shave?" Remy asked Rogue, rubbing the stubble on his chin.

"Ah think it's sexy. Y' don't have to." Rogue replied.

They both were still laughing as they disappeared out of the view of the shadow's eyes, still watching.

As they walked in, a random thought brushed Rogue's train of thought.

"Remy, what did Kitty exactly do to cover for us?"

Remy thought back to what Kitty said.

Now that he came to think about it, she hadn't told him what she was going to tell everyone while they were going way. It was the middle of term and no one was supposed to go away without a good reason. Rogue had been accepted in some college after repeating her last year of high school, since everything had been messed up during the time Apocalypse had made his dramatic entrance.

"'M not sure what she exactly said, but 'm sure she said she wouldn't give us away." he said, choosing his words carefully.

Rogue groaned and slapped her forehead. Hard.

"What's de matter? 'M _know_ she won't let us down." Remy said.

"Ah know her better that _you_, Cajun, and Ah know better than to tell _her_ to cover for _us_!" Rogue snarled. "When Kitty says somethin' lahke that, ya know she don't have a plan!"

It was Remy's turn to groan now.

****

Since there's no fancy French in the chapter, I don't hink I need to translate. Now......

Like it, love it, or hate it? Please review!


	4. Blind Alleys And Surprises

Disclaimer: I don't own the X men. I would have been filthy rich if they were mine!

As you guys may have noticed in the previous chapter, I do have problems writing Remy's Cajun accent. So I thought I could ask everyone out there, what does Remy use in the comics when he says "I" when he's not talking in the third person, or in French? I've never ever read the comics, so it would be a great help.

Now for the new chapter!

Chapter 4: Dead Ends And Surprises

Remy carefully prised open the window shutter and climbed on the window ledge. As the wooden ledge creaked, he froze like a deer in the headlights, then twisted around to see if Rogue was still asleep. She lay on the left side of the double bed, all covered up in a long-sleeved t-shirt and pyjamas, the white sheet draped over her. Letting his eyes glide over the curve of her hips to her face, he noticed it seemed to glow angel-like in the light from the moon, streaming through the window he was opening.

He also noticed her bare feet sticking out from under the sheet. He smiled at that, remembering how Rogue had argued at sharing a bed, then settled in as long as he promised not to do any 'heavy touching' as she put it.

"And if ya do, ya'll wake up to find your hands on me, but the rest of ya out on the street." she had said, growling menacingly as she had piled pillows between her and Remy on the bed at night. It had not stopped him from reaching out from under the pillows just to rest his arm around her, though. And more than once, she had let him do it.

That had been four days ago, and then his wallet had been stolen. Now, Remy did not know who was better than him to do it, but he had composed a mental list of a few people that could be responsible for such a criminal act. It didn't seem right though, since all of them had flaws that could give them away. He just would have to go around retracing his steps of that unfortunate day.

He could not take Rogue with him. She needed to understand the importance of the particular stolen items, but now was not the right time. Not yet.

He turned to face the street down below.

"Be right back, _cher_. Remy promises dat,"

His only response was a quiet sigh and a curve of Rogue's lips as she smiled, probably in the middle of a sweet dream.

Remy took one last look and climbed out, closing the shutter and dropped down to the empty street below, like a cat. Turning right, he headed towards the nearest side alley to duck out of the way of the headlights of a passing car. As it passed, the lights partially illuminated a dark figure standing on a rooftop across the street. Watching him most intently.

Remy felt a spike of anger –and fear- surge through him. Who was that?

Remy ground his teeth as a rush of adrenaline went through him.

A Thief? An Assassin? He hadn't done anything now. Maybe Bella had been keeping a beady blue eye on him and was jealous of Rogue. It wasn't really possible though. He hadn't seen her in years, and didn't particularly want to as he had a _belle fille_, who was sassy, smart mouthed, and –though she didn't know this- had him wrapped around her gloved little finger. And being the complete opposite of Belle, she had a conscience. Belle didn't, nor did she require one.

Maybe it was Logan. After, Kitty _didn't_ have a plan.

The figure stood still, standing on the rooftop, unaware of Remy's intense, burning gaze.

As it in a trance, Remy made his way over to the top of the building across the street. The shadow started and turned.

The shadow ran.

Remy ran after it.

***

Rogue slyly opened an eye and peeked as Remy climbed out the window, coy smile lighting up her pale face. He closed the shutter as he moved out, leaving her in darkness.

_He's such a gentleman_, Rogue thought to herself, _Ah'm lucky to have him. Maybe Ah should let him put his arms around me when we sleep. _

Rogue's smile became wider at that.

After a few moments, Rogue climbed out of the bed and dressed. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, Rogue observed her reflection. She was wearing tight-fitting black jeans torn at the knees, a plain white shirt with a v-shaped neck that showed just a little bit of cleavage. She slung a half-sleeved black leather jacket over her shoulder, and pulled on her longer black leather gloves, which stopped at the elbows. Narrowing her eyes, she wiped off the plum colored dark lipstick, and went instead for a scarlet color. Ready to go out and search for the lost contents of the wallet.

Poor Remy. He needed her help, even if he didn't want her to go around looking. She remembered his lost, hurt, _lost_ look from yesterday. It had been just as annoying but equally heart-wrenching and not to mention cute. But she didn't know where to start looking, or even what to look for.

Maybe she could scrabble around in some bars in the darker parts of town, and see if they had any knowledge of thieves…

_THEIVES!_

Could it be someone from Remy's past?

_Ah have to know_, Rogue thought as she stepped into the hotel lobby.

The clerk at the front desk stared at her. The time on the clock on the wall said _3 o'clock_ in the morning. Batting her eyeliner-smeared eyes on the target before her, she licked her lips in a sexy manner and walked his way. Bending down in front of him, elbows on the desk, she poured forth her sweetest sugar-laden tone asking:

"Do ya know where the nearest bar is, sugah? A girl could use a drink… an' some company too."

The clerk blinked. Given Rogue's incriminating position, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the view in front of him. Rogue raised an eye brow at the sweat pouring down his forehead and said:

"Come on now, sugah," Rogue smiled teasingly and leaned forward slightly more. The clerk seemed to have lost the power to open his jaws.

"Did Ah really ask such a hard question? Really, ya should see yer eyes…. They've gone big as…" She let his imagination fill in that blank.

The silence stretched on.

Rogue tapped her nails on the desktop, waiting.

The clerk took a deep breath.

Rogue waited for him to talk.

The clerk started sweating harder.

Rogue muttered obscenities in her mind as her patience thinned.

The man looked ready to drop down unconscious.

The silence stretched on.

Rogue gave in first.

"Talk!" she snarled, slamming a fist down, hard. Only a few inches away from his trembling left hand.

The man managed to blurt out something. "…acopl nex-ock.. Gatta thsnam.."

Rogue blinked a few times before making a contemptuous noise and saying, " Didn't really catch that, sugah."

The man laughed nervously. "Did I stutter? Sorry. The nearest bar is a couple of blocks away. It's called 'the Gutter'."

Rogue raised her eyebrows at the name but didn't wait for him to elaborate before saying, "Thanks, Ah guess."

As she sashayed out the double doors, swinging her hips slightly, Rogue heard a faint 'thump!' as the clerk slid off his chair on to the floor.

****

Remy LeBeau ran after the shadow, his mind completely blank as nothing but the thought of catching this person ran through his mind. His muscles, hard with the training of years, didn't even burn as he vaulted over chimneys, skidded over sloping roofs and rappelled down the fire escapes. The pale moon loomed overhead, throwing fingers of light over the two running figures as one of them tore after the other.

_Gotta catch 'im. Dat guy ain't gettin' away fr'm moi_.

They tore down a dark alley. The darkness there was even denser. Remy felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as a shrill sound slivered through the still night air. Moments later, as he passed by an overflowing dumpster, he realized it was the cry of a cat. The feline hissed and dived after another cat as he passed.

The figure in front of him didn't really seem like anyone he knew. He could tell it was muscular and possibly a male, but there was nothing else. Even the face was covered with a mask, he noted. Trained for years probably. Didn't look like he was going to get tired any moment now. Not any different from Remy himself, who kept thinking:

_Gotta catch 'im. Gotta catch 'im…_

The shadow rounded a corner. When Remy followed, he came face to face to a brick wall.

***

Rogue took a deep breath and walked inside the club "the Gutter". It all she had expected to be. Crowded, smoky, dingy, and sleazy. Loud music blasted Rogue's ears. _Gawd help me_, Rogue thought as she strode past a guy who had his arms wrapped around a girl whose dress seemed to be slipping off her. She laughed and giggled as he dipped her and whispered something in her ear. The guy, Rogue dimly observed, was wearing only tattered jeans and a ragged black vest. The knife with the silver inlay glinting in his right pocket was much more prominent. It hung out at a precarious angle, the sharp blade pointing out towards the outside. It was a mystery how no one had been hurt. Or maybe the answer was simple enough: everyone gave this couple a wide berth as they passed.

_Where did that hotel guy send me? _Rogue wondered. _This place looks dangerous!_

Rogue looked around the dark dance floor, the disco lights reflecting off the piercing most dancers wore. Some of them were thrashing around in time with the blaring loud electro-pop music. The ceiling was high and cobwebs and spider webs dangled from it- _real webs_, not plain decoration. The subdued lighting just stopped short of leaving the place in pitch darkness. The cluttered bar was filled with all sorts of people: from the dirty homeless to the austere-looking, dark-suited businessmen. She fit in just okay; she could tell that. The nearest men were eyeing her admiringly. Like she was a trophy.

Rogue looked back at them suspiciously. She spotted her target; and walked towards him, swaying her hips again. The man, as soon as he noted Rogue walking towards him, gave her a drunken grin and pulled out a stool beside him. He was tall and had his dark hair pulled back in a ponytail low on his neck and wore a dark business suit. Somehow, he reminded her of Jean-Luc, Remy's father. Rogue pulled herself towards him before she could start reminiscing about the Blood Moon Bayou incident and think of her first functional conversation with Remy on the boat as they had sailed towards the Rippers' hideout. They had talked on the train, yes, but that had been more… explosive. Thankfully not in a figurative way.

"Hey, sweetheart." He greeted as she sat down.

Rogue felt her stomach lurch at that, but just said, "Hey, sugah."

"I'm Dan." He said and took her gloved hand. "And you are?"

"Name's Rogue."

He planted a kiss on top of her knuckles. "Rogue. It's a pleasure."

Rogue tried not to flinch away. This was supposed to be Remy's favourite move. Ignoring the nausea within her, she said, "The pleasure's all mahne, actually."

"Ah, you're southern?" he said. "Mind if I buy you a drink? A li'l glass of wine maybe? Tell me what you like, hon. I can afford everything you want here."

Rogue gave him a smile and said, "Anythin' Ah want? Why don't ya order for meh then?"

The man grinned even harder, and then turned to the bartender to order a drink for her.

Turning back to her he said, "I don't think I've seen you before, sweetheart. You're a new around these parts?"

The bartender slid the drink towards her. Rogue picked it up and just not to blow her cover, sipped the repulsive stuff slightly. Rogue grinned at him and said, "Ya got that rahght, sugah." She leaned forward, and said, "Ah'm here with friends, but… Ah got a li'l lonely. Ah decided to come someplace where Ah could have a little fun."

"You're at the right place." He eyed her with a stare that left her feeling decidedly uneasy.

Rogue tried not to gag and flinch away. She suddenly had a feeling of dread sweep over her. Waving it away, she said, "Ah'm sure about that. It took me sometime to find this place. Ah heard that this area is dangerous."

The man winked at her and said, "Only to those who get in the way."

Rogue chose her words carefully this time. "Get in whose way? Kidnappers? Theives and pickpockets? Mah friend had his pocket picked a couple o' days ago. D'ya know about any common thieves here?"

"I don't think that's what we should be talking about. You came here for a little fun, dearie, so let's have it." His dark eyes, like little chips of coal, bored into her emerald green eyes. He was definitely drunk now.

Rogue took a deep breath as the man reached for her arm and clutching it in a pincerlike grip, he started dragging her out of the club. Once they were out, and in a dark side alley, the man grinned at her and said, "Let's have a li'l fun shall we?" he slurred the words, and Rogue had to strain to understand what he was saying. Rogue struggled and said, "Ah didn't mean that kinda fun, sugah. Now, ya gonna let go or Ah'll make you?"

The man leered at her, his teeth flashing. He reached out to kiss her.

Rogue braced herself and got ready to kick his butt.

***

Remy stood staring at the brick wall, not believing his eyes. How had the figure just disappeared into thin air? It was a dead end.

***

Rogue quickly slammed her fist in his face and shoved Dan backwards. He hit the opposite wall with a loud thwack, but simply staggered and regained his balance.

He said, "Rogue, eh? You're gonna learn what happens when li'l girls who get caught up in their own li'l games. You came here for information right?" He moved towards Rogue, and before she knew it, he had her trapped against the wall again. He slid out a knife from his sleeve and held it in front of her face. Rogue saw her own fearful reflection staring back at her.

"Looks like you're close to tears." He smirked and laid it against her pale throat.

Rogue gasped as the cold metal slid against her skin. His breath hot in her face, she looked desperately for a way out.

He shifted his weight slightly to block her way completely.

She found her opening.

Bringing up her leg, she kneed him in the groin as hard as she could. As he doubled over in pain, she shouted, "Not quite!"

***

Disappointed, Remy stared at the brick wall a few seconds longer, then turned and shuffled out of the alley. His mind, once it cleared, started to think rationally. Where did he go?

He climbed up a fire escape and looked around. His spatial awareness detected only two warm bodies around him: one behind him, and one under him- on the _floor_ under him, more like. He walked over to the door which was the entrance to the roof. It was hanging open, and whoever had been hiding behind it was gone in a second as the moonlight spilled into the hallway. Again, Remy ran after him. When he emerged on the first landing, he suddenly came face to face with the shadow he had been chasing.

The figure ripped off his mask.

***

I t was time to scram. Rogue quickly moved around him and ran out of the alley. Behind her, she heard the man roar in anger and start after her.

_It was a dangerous place_, she reflected. _Ah need to get back to the hotel before Remy does. _

Rogue decided if…._when_ she would get back to the hotel, she would tear out the nearest live wire from the nearest electric socket and hang the dumb clerk who had recommended that unearthly place. Did that loon go there himself?

Probably not, she mused, as she recalled his manner with her. He had acted like he had never conversed with a woman.

A shout from behind her reminded her why she was running like she had a whole mob coming after her with torches and pitch forks.

She skidded over a wet patch, but retained her balance and ran on. But it closed some of the distance between her and Dan. Swearing colorfully, Rogue ran on. She could hear the heavy thud of his footsteps behind her, thundering in her ears, blotting out all other sounds. Blood screamed in her ears and her breath came out in short, quick gasps. Her chest burned the longer she ran. Around her, everything was a dark blur, desolate and foreign, unknown to her senses. The darkness seemed to be forming a ring around her, getting tighter and tighter with each steps. Rogue felt like her legs were going back and forth in slow motion. But she knew it was not from running too long. She ran fifteen laps around the mansion everyday. She knew what the matter with her was.

She was afraid. For once, she felt she needed help shaking this man off her tail.

_Where is Remy?_

_Save me_, she thought. _Please Remy; just come out and save me!_

The thought vaporized as a heavy hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back.

***

In the abandoned warehouse, Remy couldn't help but keep staring.

****

Next Chapter: We find out who the shadow is! Tell me who you think it is. Will it be the right person?

You know, I hate to be so greedy… but just press down that little grayish button that says review!


	5. Before the Dawn

Disclaimer: I don't X men…yet.

Thanks for the reviews! I'm really thankful for all those who read this little scribble, even if they don't review. It's time for the revelation of the shadow, after we see how Rogue deals with Dan. And when we finally get to that… kudos to those who guessed right.

Chapter 5: Before the dawn

Rogue knew, turning around as slowly as she could, what she was going to face. An angry, drunken man who had been looking for some dirt, and only because she didn't let him have his way with her, he had gone beyond reason. She clenched her fists and ground her teeth together, wondering how she would get out of this little jail of a mess.

"You shouldn't have walked in here." Dan slurred. The maniac gleam in his eyes was unsettling, to say the least. It dimmed and grew wider at moments, a fire that burned with his wrong intentions, reflecting the evil things he wanted to do to her. She discovered she couldn't look away from them.

He reached for her. "Come here….I won't hurt you if you… come quietly. Could use a girl like ya…" He grinned at her, displaying rows of white, pearlescent teeth, in what he supposed was a friendly manner. It didn't disguise the look in his eyes- of lust.

Rogue didn't let herself be fooled by anything, but she had to fool him to get an advantage. The look Dan was giving her was actually making her panic. Rogue felt the rush of adrenaline as Dan moved forward, giving her the pretend-benevolent look. It made her skin crawl.

Rogue took a deep breath and tried to get her thoughts together. _Now what was that thing the Prof was saying last Danger Room session?_ She scrunched her forehead, lips twisting in frown. _Tools, yes. There are always tools in your environment. So don't be an ignorant fool. Observe._ She had to find something around her to help her fight. There was no one around, she was certain of that. Dan had chased her straight into a lonely cross-roads, with dingy buildings around she was certain were used for storage of illegal stuff. She cast a quick look on all sides, drinking in every detail, analyzing her surroundings. It took just one look to see she had a chance of escape from this man. His hulking form loomed above her.

They were standing right under a streetlight, its dirty yellow light bulb throwing off dull shadows of light. The light was like a ring, surrounding them, with little corners left dark that were too far away to reach. At her back, a few feet away, was a padlocked door, with a smudged sign mounted on a stand in front of it. An asphalt path to her right led the way to the back of the building which was an ugly squat building, with a large basement, she could tell. The grime covered windows on the ground floor hardly gave away little details of what was inside. Rogue kept stalling for time, moving with little timid steps towards Dan., who seemed to be getting more impatient and agitated with each passing second. The fire in his eyes grew denser and denser, little smoldering ashes that left little to the imagination what he was capable of. On her left was a closed shed, its tiny widow shutter pulled up. Rogue caught sight of the faint outlines of sticks, spades and rakes leaning against the wall.

In front of her was Dan.

Just her luck the shed door was open.

She took a cautious step forward, looking at his hand with hidden suspicion. He gave her an encouraging nod, with a very eager look.

"I won't hurt you…" he said again.

Rogue snarled at him. "Too bad _Ah _want to hurt _ya_!"

She had just enough time to get a blurred, angry, surprised look on his face. His strong hand dropped to his side, but not before Rogue had grabbed the sign in front of the building and swung it towards him as a distraction. She heard him cry out as he hit the sidewalk. The shadows loomed and squatted along the walls as he fell and sprawled over the pavement. Rogue broke away from under the streetlight and ran over to the shed door; she yanked it open and stepped inside just as Dan got up behind her. He roared out in anger at her and dived at her legs, tripping her over on her face.

Rogue fell hard, bumping her chin on the concrete floor. She turned around to see him laugh cruelly, and start to pull her out into the street, his fingernails jabbed into the soft fleshy backs of her calves. Rogue grunted and threw out an arm towards the pile of sticks. Her fingers just a few inches away from the nearest potential weapon. She yelled out loud with frustration, wanting to be anywhere but here. She kicked out at him, but he was holding her legs too tight. She knew she had just one choice. _Touch him_. Her mind seemed to fill with the buzzing of white noise as this thought flew in. She shook her head hard. _Ah have to do this_, she thought. _Just reach out and brush your fingers against his skin_.

All those years of practicing fighting without her powers, learning to be better and better at hand-to-hand combat, and normal self-defense. All of them were going down the drain. She hadn't absorbed a person in the last four years, not counting Leech and Apocalypse. And that felt so long ago. It _was_ long ago.

As if in a trance, Rogue slid the glove of her hand, her skin pale and deathly white, smooth and uncut from being kept covered up all her life. She reached out towards the large ham-like hand still dragging her out. It had a deathly grip on her lower legs, turning them numb. The world seemed to transition into slow motion, fade into gray. An expectant, impatient, thick palpable atmosphere that brought with it promises of pain swirled in her head. Like an empty stage where a tragic play is about to unfold.

She stretched her hand towards him.

Ten inches.

_Keep stretchin' gal_.

Five inches.

_Just a li'l more…_

Two inches...

_One inch…Almost there. Be ready._

She closed her eyes and waved her fingers to come in contact with something-anything- resembling human skin. Her thoughts went into overdrive and blotted out all sense. Rogue felt like her mind was a million miles away. It was as if she was standing up, watching two people struggle, one man dragging a girl with two-tone hair out of a garden shed. The girl was twisted around like a stick of chewing gum, reaching out with a bare left hand, porcelain white skin prominent over her dark clothes. She was trying to touch him, straining with the effort, her eyes closed as her hand came nearer and nearer to his. Fascinated, interested, she looked on, willing the girl to win and get away.

"_What do ya think you're doing?" _she shouted at her._ "Kick his ass and get the hell outta there!"_

The girl was kicking and screaming, her feet trying to break free from the strong hands which were holding her. Her cries of anger and frustration echoed across the neighborhood. No one seemed to hear what she was saying. The thug didn't even try to silence her.

What happened next was quick, blurred and unexpected. She wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't been watching so intently. It was nothing short of a miracle. The girl's flailing lower legs and feet made suddenly collided with the man's face. Her hand had been a bare millimeter away from his hand. Backing away, he cried out in pain and dropped his hostage, his hands over his face. Blood poured from his nostrils. The girl had broken his nose. Rogue let out a yell of triumph and looked at the girl.

She tumbled on the floor as she was released, sprawled like a rag doll.

All of a sudden, Rogue realized it was she who was lay spread-eagled on the cold, hard pavement. Her cheek stung and both knees throbbed from the friction with rough surface. All senses came back at her like a sucking vacuum filling with fresh air, rushing into her lungs, giving her life. Feeling came back into her legs as the blood sang, ran in her veins.

Rogue was breathing fast, heavy gasps that were hollow echoes over the silent warehouses. Her heart racing wildly in her chest, she turned over to her back. The only sound besides that were Dan's grunts of pain, accompanied with random curses. It reminded Rogue what she was doing here. Raising herself on a shaky elbow, Rogue looked over at him. Her sharp intake of breath made him turn around. She felt her bravery flake away at the murderous look on his face.

The thudding in heart approached a dead stop as he looked at her. The air hung thick and heavy with tension. It was complete silence. Both of them looked at each other, Rogue still on the pavement. She slowly got up, unsure of what he was thinking in his head. Dan broke the silence first.

"Look what you've done." It was a quiet, scratchy whisper that wormed its way into her ear. Rogue remained silent.

He started to move towards her slowly, like a powerful wild animal. _Ain't that an appropriate phrase for him_, she thought sarcastically, as she started to think more clearly. She felt a sudden flood of relief sweep over her. She hadn't touched him. She hadn't absorbed his memories.

"I'm gonna teach you a lesson." The silence broke, like lightening splitting a cloudy sky into two.

Rogue's mind snapped back to where she was right now. She was getting tired of Dan. She suddenly thought of Remy, where ever he was, looking everywhere just for a wallet, and what was in it.

Remy.

His name was like a magic whisper in the corner of her mind, moving in her thoughts, calming her down. It was like a drug, it made her focus, and relax. She shook her shoulders and turned to her former target, who had turned her into _his_ target.

"Ah ain't done nothing yet."

Rogue rushed over to the shed and grabbed a stick, just the right size for her to swing and not lose her grip. She smiled to herself, feeling sweat drying down the sides of her face. She was gonna give Dan a piece of her mind…. and fist.

***

Still staring, Remy moved forward. His red-on-black-eyes glimmered in the dark, stretched wide. In front of him stood a very familiar face. All the air rushed out of his lungs.

Belladonna Boudreaux.

Remy almost laughed aloud. Of all the people who were supposed to follow him, she was the last on his not-so-long-list-after-all. He had expected a man, at least her lackey, not _her_. Certainly not her.

None of them spoke. Remy stared at the beautiful woman, who had been his first best friend, girlfriend, lover, fiancé, wife, and then ex-wife. Hadn't he loved that golden laugh of hers? And how many times had he teased her, just to see the fire in her eyes come alive? Everyday, he would make a list of what would tease Belle the most. Then he would implement the naughtier of those things, and her tantrum would end with the both of them laughing, and doing exactly what her brother Julien didn't want them to do. He remembered the many happy afternoons they had spent together, fingers laced together, lying in the sun at the edge of the bayou in trees standing still in the heavy humidity. As he thought about it, he dimly recalled the warm nights, the scent of wet wood and mud, Louisiana iris, heavy blooming magnolia blossom, jasmine- all would hang heavy in the air after a storm. He inhaled deeply and tried to fill his senses with that perfume.

But right now he had more pressing problems. In a constricted voice he managed to ask: "Belle, _que faites-vous ici?_ _Pourquoi n'êtes-vous pas à la Nouvelle-Orléans? _(What are you doing here? Why aren't you in New Orleans?)

She remained silent for another long moment. Her only indication she had heard his questions was the movement of her eyelids, fluttering up and down. Remy felt a chill emanating from her, and the silence hung heavy with an ominous foreboding. He waited for her to answer, his hands suddenly itching to take out a pack of cards and shuffle them to keep his hands occupied. Suddenly, she spoke. "_Je suis ici pour vous tuer_." (I'm here to kill you). Her usually sweet cadence had a steely mechanical note with them.

The feeling he had proved to be true. Remy gave her a smirk, and batted his eyelashes saying, "An' what did dis _homme_ do t' piss y' off, _mon cher_?" He let out a low laugh and moved towards her. His trench coat flapped in the breeze that had sprung up. He saw at once the remark angered her. Her eyes were suddenly alive, flashing temper. They had a hard look to them. Remy swallowed, although he didn't let her see he was disconcerted. She meant what she just said. He felt a spike of anger impale his gut. What _had_ he done, after all?

"An' what did m' do dat y' just have t' finish m' off y'rself? Could've sent someone else t' do it…. mebbe Gris Gris, Questa, anyone. But y' had t' do it y'rself." He purred, then added, almost as an afterthought, "Remy must be someone special t' y', eh?"

"Shut up! _Vous avez ruiné ma vie_!" (You ruined my life!)

The command was a sharp knife laced with blood oozing from a wound made only moments ago. It stung. Remy moved forward, looking at Belladonna, silently daring her to continue. She moved forward as well, her blond hair set in a tight ponytail, barely moving. Her beautiful face was molded into the most deadly expression ever. Her eyes, though- they were unreadable. Jean-Luc had taught him to read people to guess what they were thinking. A vein twitching in the neck, a clenching of the fist, downcast eyes- these little daily actions taken for granted, they could mean a hundred million things depending upon the situation. A Thief could interpret them and use them to his advantage. As Remy had done a million times himself. Remy duly noted the gilt-handled dagger in her boot, as well as the bulge of the small revolver in her right pocket. He wondered which weapon she would use to finish him off.

She held up a hand and said, "Lemme countdown all the things y' did t' ruin my life, Remy. I'm not gonna blame without any evidence."

In the half-darkness of the night, as Belladonna closed the distance between them, in his head Remy's thoughts drifted, and he started to think about Rogue. The girl he had loved half his life was morphing into someone he planned to devote the other half of his life to. The silken blond hair changing to a messy white and auburn nest of curls, the lightly tanned skin a white porcelain, and the eyes smoldering into a deep emerald green. _Like de most precious thing in dis world- in any world,_ he thought. _Rogue._

He had left her behind, sleeping, alone. It was near dawn. What would happen if she woke up and found him gone? She did not deserve to be left alone at all. He would have to make this rendezvous with Belle quick, get back to the hotel and get back to the Institute, where undoubtly, the father-figure of his girlfriend would be waiting to shish-kebab him. Well, Rogue did say he would make a beautiful corpse…

He shook his head to get rid of the image. Belle swam into focus before him. He reached into the long pocket of his jeans, and gripped the bo stick hard. Even if he had to bash up his ex-wife to get back before dawn, he would do it. Maybe this time he should run away. Remy felt his stomach flip as Belle talked on, detached and far away, no longer connected by the means of an official paper. He suddenly remembered something.

"Belle, what _are _y' doin' here? I know that y' not here to kiss and make up wit' m'." he said, cutting across her monologue and earning a dirty look.

"I'm not here f'r a reunion." She ground out. It was like hearing icebergs break. Titanic.

Remy gave her a devilish grin. "Dat's what m' said. What are y' doin' here? I'm not gonna ask y' again. I'll just walk away."

Belle snorted. "Y' think I don't know dat? Y' always walk away when y' get in trouble."

"So, dat's what y' here f'r? T' teach me a lesson? Y' think I did somethin' bad t' y'? I just left y' t' let the Guilds live in peace. Dat's de only thing letting y' _pere_ sleep at night."

She smiled an oily, twisted smile. "De only thing letting m' _pere_ sleep in peace tonight is de fact dat you're gonna be history. I'm here f'r my revenge, _cher_, plain an' simple. Now tell m', y' want me t' slit your throat or shoot y' in the brain?"

Remy laughed although he was feeling some dread rising up his throat like bile. Now this was funny. "Pick an' choose m' weapon of death? Now, dat's real nice of y'- but Remy ain't leaving dis world so soon. Dere's things I gotta do. Now be a good_ fille_ and leave m' be."

She moved to his side and whispered in his ear, "I know what y' gotta do, Remy, an' m' gonna do all m' can t' stop it." She put her hands on his shoulders and moved them over his neck, around and back. Remy shook her off.

"Did y' pick m' wallet?" he asked her bluntly. She laughed coldly.

"It's a lot closer than y' think."

The sudden realization hit him. Belle had been following him- but someone else had his wallet. Belle knew who it was.

He had to hurry. Dawn was near.

***

Rogue ran forwards, the muscles in her legs burning slightly. She was tired, but she was not going to be pushed around by this guy. She had to beat him up. Though it was a good thing that he hadn't got wind she was a mutant.

She kicked out, her foot connecting to the side of his arm. He gripped her foot and whirled her clean off her feet, and flung her to a side. Rogue had a brief view of upside down buildings jutting upwards, before crashing onto the floor. Slightly winded, she got up as he advanced on her. He hurled a large fist in her direction which she blocked, then swung it around her, twisting the arm around like a lean stick. He screamed out with pain and struggled and kicked at her tailbone behind her, but she gritted at the pain and just pulled his arm harder like a thick rope around her. A few minutes later, a sharp _crack_ resounded. She had broken his arm. Rogue dropped it like a dead rat and backed away to inspect him, wincing at the throbbing in her rear end. She rubbed a gloved hand over it tenderly.

Dan was on the floor, his suit soiled with dust and sweat. _Ah have to get back before dawn_, she thought. _Remy can't find out what Ah've been upto._

Above her, the signs of dawn were already to be seen.

***

Meanwhile, at the Institute….

"No! No, guys, cut that out!" Jean's commands could hardly be heard in the debriefing room. Around her was a myriad of sounds and sights and unidentified objects resembling ice. To her left, Roberto and Ray were in a fight, each rolling over the other. Roberto had his fingers wrapped around the dyed streak of hair, on Ray's head while Ray had a fistful of his shirt and was ripping it out. On the right side, Jubilee and Amara were in an intense discussion regarding boys and old movies and new hairstyles and electricity and Leonardo DiCaprio. "I love his blond hair. He reminds me of that Backstreet Boys' member…what was his name?"

Around her Rahne chased Sam in her wolf form. Bobby was making ice chandeliers on the ceiling. Kitty and Kurt were arguing whether he was really shedding or not, and their voices were getting louder ad louder as Kitty got more and more upset by the second.

It was complete chaos.

Jean couldn't take it, nor could her telepathic powers.

She opened her mouth and screamed as loudly as she could.

One floor down, Professor Xavier, Storm and Scott were speeding to her rescue. They got their just in time- exactly the same moment Tabitha released her largest cherry bomb ever.

BOOOOOM!

***

Well, that was fun to write. I wanted to make Remy show up and rescue Rogue, but I thought that would make her look weak, since she's anything but that and I didn't want to make it look that way! Anyhow, tell me, was the shadow who you thought it was? I thought was pretty simple to figure out, but I apparently did have a few people deceived. I appreciate all reviews and readers, but I'll still be a tad greedy and ask for more. Thanks a lot, everyone…Just stick with me to the end and I'll make it more interesting as I go by!


	6. The Rising Sun

Disclaimer: I don't own X men. If I did…. (Dream on.)

This chapter took forever to write and rewrite! I'm sorry but couldn't help for three reasons: (1) I should be studying (2) My house is being repainted and the fumes are getting to my head. (3) I'm sick. I wish I could spit out my tonsils.

Oh, and by the way, warning for language!

Chapter 6: The Rising Sun

Rogue quickly grabbed Dan's head by the hair and banged it on the pavement. At first he groaned in pain, then the second time he flopped onto the floor like a sack of potatoes. Rogue banged his head two more times, just to make sure he wasn't faking it. He lay slumped on the ground, a trickle of blood carving its way on the lines on his forehead to fall on the ground. Rogue watched it, feeling slightly torn. A self-satisfied smirk formed on her lips, but her heart sank as she realized what she had done. Bending down, she carefully felt his pulse through his shirtsleeve. It was okay- not too slow, not too fast. Normal. She sighed in relief. The bleeding was only a scrape, too. He would be up after a little while, she calculated. _Better get outta here_.

Looking around, she spotted her glove lying a few feet away. Rogue hobbled over to it and picked it up, slipping it on. It felt a little tight –sticky and rough. Her palms were sweating. It was not only her palms- but her whole body. Her cheek stung with sweat where it had sandpapered against the pavement. And her eyes burned in their sockets. Rubbing them, she thought of getting back to the hotel, beat up the clerk and then get a decent amount of sleep- something not affordable in the mansion. _Yeah, that's right_, she thought. _Get to the hotel, eviscerate the clerk, and sleep._

_And wait for Remy…_

_Damn those munchkins_, she thought. To the Prof's delight, mutants were pouring in the Institute. Some were found by the supercomputer Cerebro, but now, they were different mutants coming out of hiding, from wherever they had been living in obscurity. Most of them were teenagers, but there were a couple of kids too, aged from seven years to eight years. It was utter mayhem trying to keep them in line. Naturally, they all loved Remy and wanted him to baby sit them. Of course, he was always ready to do so, but sometimes things would get out of hand…

All the same, she had to admit that all of them were good, decent kids- something Remy was trying to train them out of unfortunately.

Now, though, she had other things to do. She bone tired, completely drained. It looked liked that miles of jogging in the morning did nothing to increase her stamina. Remy, on the other hand, could run those laps around the mansion and live to run the hundred-meter race in the same day. Her butt felt like it was going to drop off. Rogue shook her shoulders, trying to work out the knots. She thought longingly of Remy's massaging abilities, which could rival any expensive spa. She craved his touch right now, and it was impossible not to imagine him standing there, looking at her, wanting her. She suddenly felt a great weariness overcome her, of everything, of this fight, of not being able to touch- just that little root of every problem she ever had. No touch. Period. Remy had changed that since his arrival. She grinned and closed her eyes, remembering that little incident.

Fadeout.

_Four years ago_…

The night was a reckless millionaire. The diamond like stars were scattered on a velvety blackness that stretched upwards and around the earth like a heavy mantle. Not suffocating or muffling- just being held there by the invisible force that is gravity.

Rogue liked that. She could make out the Little Dipper and the constellation of Orion above her. Also, it was damn quiet up here on the roof of the mansion. She liked that too, since downstairs, the mix of mutants -old and young alike- made enough noise to rouse the dead six feet under.

Rogue shivered slightly at that.

Dead…Alive… What did he look like? _And why am Ah tryin' to remember him? He's a couple of centuries older than meh! _She didn't remember Apocalypse when she had been used to bring him to power as she had been under Mesmero's trance, but she imagined him all withered and bent, eyes shut tight, without the usual wrapping of mummies, which could be miles long. That was smart. If he had been all cozy in his bandages it could have taken sometime to get to him. Good for her. Rogue groaned and rubbed her eyes with her bare hands. Alone, she had the luxury of taking the damned things off. _Yay_, she enthused silently. Rolling her eyes and settled back on the bench, swinging her legs over to the seat and humming some song about a jagged little pill.

Oh well, Apocalypse wasn't going to be any trouble- in the past, or in the future. Hopefully.

Rogue smiled to herself and leaned over the railing. She loved the roof of the mansion. It was her one and only place in the world for a bit of solitude and quiet thinking. She would also finish her school homework here, when she had writer's block. The faraway lights of the city, cars, black shapes of high trees darkening to a purple-black in a sunset. It was her world.

Rogue sighed and rubbed her eyes. It was getting late now, and she had finished her homework for the day. Also, the mosquitoes were getting to her. She picked her books and got up from the bench where she had spread her note earlier.

A screech of tires made her look around. She started and turned. Rogue felt her heart fly out of her chest. _Oh Gawd, don't let it be an accident_, she thought. Maybe it was some of the New Mutants getting away with Scott's car for a joyride. Maybe it was Logan on his bike. Maybe it was a cat being chased by Rahne-

Dropping her books, she dashed to the railing overlooking the front of the mansion. Out in the garden below, Rogue could see Ororo, the resident Weather Witch fly out in her civilian clothes, white hair billowing backwards as she planted her feet firmly onto the ground. Behind the bars of the main gate, Rogue could see a silhouetted figure of a bulky person on a bike. She then saw Scott, Jean and the Professor come out towards the gate as it. As the light from the foyer flooded in the front grounds with the arrival of the other X men, the bulky figure turned out to be a trench coated muscular Cajun Devil on a motorbike. She could see Gambit grinning wickedly and revving up the bike. Like a bat out of hell, he speeded into the mansion grounds, trampling Ororo's newly planted petunias. Grounding her teeth in shock and disgust, Rogue let out a scream of horror. To her surprise, she saw Gambit look and say: "_Oui chere_, Remy missed y' too!"

Good thing she wasn't wearing gloves. She wouldn't hesitate to give that soon-to-be-corpse a pat on the back with her bare hands.

A few minutes later, it had begun to rain.

Back in the present, Rogue suddenly snapped out of her reverie as she heard a deep groan behind her. _Oh yeah, Danny Boy. Better get outta here now._

She left the shadows behind.

***

Remy gripped his bo stick harder as Belladonna slid out the dagger from her boot, and slid the blade across the palm of her hand to test its sharpness. It left a thin line of red trailing across the soft skin of her hand. Grinning in satisfaction, Bella turned to Remy. "Ready?" she asked. As casually as they were discussing planting potatoes. Remy gritted his teeth over that. He let the question penetrate the layers of his mind. It was a ten ton weight that brought them all crashing down.

Did he want to die? No.

Rogue would be alone. Again. She did not deserve to be a lone wolf again. "An' t' think I changed dat f'r a li'l while." he murmured to himself. Now, he was going to stay calm, take a deep breath, count to three and leap away.

_Inhale. _

Feeling the tension ebbing away, he calculated his chances of escaping. Not too slim, he figured.

_Exhale. _

The building was a couple of stories high, but their was a chance he could dash around Bella and find a fire escape leading down- away from trouble and back to Rogue.

One.

Smirking slightly, he turned himself towards Bella's right- his left. He could see a rail of a fire escape, half-rusted, a bit twisted- but it would support him.

Two.

He braced himself, slyly moving a step towards the fire escape.

Three.

_PING!!!_

Before he could make a move, Bella's knife flew past him, aiming for the left side of his chest. Reacting instinctively, he dodged it and somersaulted sideways. She hissed in frustration and lunged at him.

Suddenly, nothing seemed straight. The breeze seemed to scream in his ears; a vacuum of a sound sucking away at his senses. Shaking his head to clear it, he knew he had made his decision. All actions were deprived of thought as he extracted his staff from his pocket and extended with a muted ping, all in one fluid motion as Bella lunged towards him. She got battered to the ground. "Whaddaya think y'r doin' y' coyoon?" She shouted from under him. "Get off m' before-" Remy slammed his bo staff on her shoulders to keep her down, and righted himself on top of her. "Before y' what?" hissed Remy in her face. Bella blinked as his breath flew into her eyes. Bella's response was to kick him in the shins and throw him off. Remy didn't back off but lunged at her again. It appeared she didn't want to back off either; she quickly kicked out at him, catching the side of his neck. The pain was a little more than a sting of a bee, and Remy waved it off as such, wrapping his fingers around her ankle and letting her foot rest on his shoulder. Remy knew she was waiting to see what he was going to tell her. "Before y' _what_, eh?" She punched him in the chest, and kicked him in the groin. Remy didn't let go, but still grimaced slightly. She was ready to finish him off, it appeared. Well, he wasn't going to let her. Did she think he was putty in her hands, twist him to her will? The promises of love, respect and what not he had made for her before marriage. All compromise had been from his side. Remy sucked in a breath and blew out air onto the lock of hair hanging in front of his face. It flopped listlessly, settling back over his face, giving him a demented look. He realized Bella had become unusually still. They must look pretty funny, Remy mused. The pair of them stood like Greek statues, Belladonna's leg on his shoulder. Even in the half-darkness of a subdued moon, Remy could see the craggy shadows on her face. It seemed more normal, more… ordinary. She was just nobody like anyone else.

Except Rogue. She was the one.

He inhaled slowly and released her foot. She accepted it back slowly, bringing it down to theY' think its cool t' go around makin' other people's lives hell? Killin' them when dey get one chance of happiness? Tell y' what, _ma chere,_ y' despise us Theives and think we're nothing… but y' don't know, _cher, y' don't know _daty' no different fr'm anyone else."

Her voice remained neutral as she deadpanned, "Dere's no one like us."

Remy shook his head. "Belle, y're wrong. These Theives and Assassins.. just tryin' t' live and make a livin', but no one tried t' change things. Dey remained de same, all crappy an' broken and…"

"An' it was up t' us t' fix dem."

"We were in dis t'gether, _cher_. T'was fate." He grinned at Bella, just offering her an easy smile of a friend without the sly, Machiavellian element. It hung on his face, sliding off when he saw she wasn't happy. She seemed to puff up with invisible anger at his feeble attempt of a joke. Remy twitched at her expression on the inside and took a deep breath, working up his nerve to tell her the thing he had always wanted to say.

"Belle, dat day… I never meant t' do it. Y' have t' forgive m' one of dese days." Bella looked like a deflating balloon, her features softening. Rolling his staff over his fingers, he retracted it and stuffed it back in his jeans pocket. He thanked his lucky stars that Bella hadn't exploded. He had a sudden vision of Bella cracking his head like a water melon, the inside all splattered over the pavement. Wet, shiny and…gross.

Bella slowly walked over to the cement barrier on the edge of the roof and sat down. It didn't seem to bother her she was nearly five stories above the ground. She sighed, dipping her face into her hands, "Y' got away." Remy froze, his hands in the process of reaching for a deck of cards. The tension had him itching to use them, even though he preferred sliding his hands over something more soft, with skin and muscles underneath. Cards were comforting, but…

"Y' got away." she repeated. At Remy's confused expression, her words carefully stretched and heavy with some sort of mercy, she added: "When I came t' New York, y' weren't dere." Remy's eyes widened in surprise as he understood. Was she giving up on killing him? "Are my ears deceivin' m', Belle? Won't your _pere_ be….er…" She nodded slowly, eyes cast downwards. Remy came over to her and slowly lifted her face upwards towards him. Fingers resting under her chin, Remy spoke very quietly, his tone full of gratitude.

"_Merci_, Belle."

"It's nothin'."

"It's somethin' alright. Y' were gonna kill m', y' didn't really give m' a good fight, an' I thought y' never gave up what y' wanna do! _Pourquoi_?" Remy frowned and let go of her chin, as her eyes fell to looking downwards again. "An' tell me, how did we get t' dis killing thing? I knew y' so well." Belladonna kept looking down. Her behaviour was strange and foreign, and he knew the meaning of every wrinkle, from her smile to the dent in her forehead that meant that either she was mad or worried. He remembered it had been most pronounced at the end of their wedding. But at that moment, he hadn't been sure which it was.

Right now, it was a strange expression. It seemed she was conceding defeat, but why? He silently watched her, as she ran her fingers through the silken blond mass of hair. Waiting, he folded him arms on his chest and stared at her.

When she finally looked up, her gaze was steady and expression stone-like.

"Y' wanna know why I'm after y'? I'm jealous."

Remy blinked.

"_Je suis desole_, I didn't get dat."

"I'm jealous."

"Desole?"

"I'm jealous."

Remy blinked again, and gaped at her. "Y're jealous, Belle? Of what?"

"Dat _salope_ (whore) y' hang around wit', dat's what!" She punctuated the sentence by angrily walking forward and yanking on his coat collar. She instantly saw that her remark had angered him. His eyes dulled to a point where even the flaring red irises were almost a dark scarlet. _Rubies_, Bella thought. _When y' throw a black blanket over them, dey look like dat._

"Y' know better den t' call her dat, Belladonna Boudreaux.", he snapped at her. She flinched a bit, but regained her composure.

"Y' have everything y' want -or need- and y' definitely don't need me, even if y' want me. So leave me alone." He turned around with a whip of his trench coat. The movement struck Bella dumb, and she could only watch in silence, as Remy black figure silhouetted in front of a rising sun bounded away to a shapeless black smudge, then a tiny pip-sized shadow, and finally to nothingness.

***

The room didn't look even half as bad as Tabitha had hoped, but a fair amount of damage had been done.

Where the table had once stood, there was now a pile of splinters and slivers of blackened wood.

Where the four walls of the room stood, it seemed as if someone had painted them black to boycott them.

Where humans had stood, there were erect blackish statues.

The door had been blasted clean off its hinges.

And where Jean Grey had stood, there was now an unusually tall version of a Chucky doll looking like it had been nuked.

The rest were indistinguishable from the mess.

"Clean up. Danger Room. Five minutes."

These words drummed on the ears of Jean Grey.

"What?" she spat. Soot billowed from her mouth. Waving it away, she gasped, "I didn't do anything, it was these delinquents who-"

Everyone snapped out of a trance.

"We didn't do anything?" Bobby shouted.

"Yeah, it was that _sorciere_ over-"

"Hey, shut up!" Tabitha glared daggers around the room.

"Silence!" snapped Ororo. Everyone shrank back. A few mutters sprang up.

"We will discuss everything in the Danger Room." sighed Professor Xavier, as he rubbed his eyes.

Silence fell like Ororo had wanted.

"Well, what are you people waiting for? Get to it!" Scott had snapped out of his trance, it appeared.

"Yeah, yeah, Fearless Leader…"

"Come on, guys." Jean stalked out of the room with her nose in the air.

As soon as the last of the Mutants had walked out after Jean, Scott looked around to slam a door not there anymore, scowled- then turned to the Professor. "Professor, what are we going to do with them?"

For the first time, it appeared the Professor didn't have an answer.

Scott shook his head slightly and then turned to the problem he had wanted to discuss with the older man.

"Professor, I think you already know this- well, Rogue is missing."

They started towards the Danger Room.

"Professor, Rogue-"

"Ah, yes, that dear girl…"

"And that pot of Gumbo with her…"

"Well, I'm sure they aren't doing anything, Scott…"

"Professor, I don't agree."

"Naturally."

"I think they are up to something."

"M'hm, _indeed_…"

"What if he does something wrong with her? We should get them baaack!"

"I'm sure they are 'up to' nothing, Scott."

"The last time he kidnapped her, Professor! Just like last time!"

"Scott, last time was nearly four years ago. Please come back."

"This is not about me living in the past, Professor. It's about Rogue getting hurt!"

"Scott, do you remember the last time you insulted Rogue about her new relationship?"

"…"

"Exactly. You wouldn't remember- and nor would I remind you… still , you very clearly remember the aftermath."

"Yes, well.."

"I don't think Rogue would appreciate it a lot if we cut her off from youthful masculine society."

"_Youthful masculine society?_ That is one-"

"I think it describes Remy perfectly, Scott." This was from Ororo.

Scott groaned. It appeared Remy had got all the females in the team –including Ororo.

It was going to be one long morning.

"Professor-"

"I do not wish to discuss this anymore. Rogue and Remy left on their own choice, and I _know_ they will be alright."

"I wouldn't like to be him if Logan finds out."

"No one will tell Logan, Scott."

"…"

"That's all, Scott."

***

_Run, mah baby, run_! Rogue's words echoed in her head like bells, ringing insistently, urgently…

The sunlight slipped and lapped at her, sometimes drawing to her feet, sometimes on her face- highlighting blood, sweat and tears.

A scrape on the cheek, a saltish liquid stinging it- and shiny emeralds.

Emeralds, yes. With tears shining in them.

Gasping for breath, Rogue emerged on a busy street. Was it morning already? In the shadows of the alley she stopped and tried to get back some air in her lungs.

_From the noise of the streets_

She recognized the street corner café.

…_and the loaded gun_

The hotel came up before her and she raced in the lobby ignoring the alarmed looks of passersby. Her mind went into overdrive as she yanked up the same clerk that had been there last night by the collar. He had been fast asleep on the desk.

"What kinda shithole did ya send me to?" she shouted in his face.

Whimpering, he fell limp in her arms like a dishrag, out cold. Again.

Rogue dropped him, cursing. _Ah'll get him later_, she promised herself. She walked back to the room. _Get some sleep…_

"_Bon matin,_ Rogue." (Good morning.)

…_before Remy gets back._

Damn, and double damn.

***

Jagged Little Pill" by Alanis Morissette. Also called "You Learn."

Run, Baby, Run: By Garbage.

Sorciere: A witch

Youthful masculine society: I borrowed this from the novel "My Cousin Rachel" by Daphne du Maurier. The actually line is "So your cousin is not entirely cut off from youthful feminine society?" said by the character Rainaldi.

"That's all": From "Devil wears Prada." Said after every rant of Miranda Priestly in the movie. Heh.

So, this took long enough. I'm afraid I have some bad news…I'm going on a little break for a while for my exams. Not what you like to hear, but I might update by the end of next month. Sorry!


	7. Solitaire

Here's a chapter- a present for the patient people out there. Hope you like it.

Chapter 7: Solitaire

She stared hard, deciding what that was.

When she last saw him, his face was cloaked in shadows. He, himself was seated strategically on a sofa near the window. When Rogue had walked in only to be ambushed by him, she had felt that this was something like some scene in a steamy soap opera – in which a boyfriend walks in on his girlfriend to find her wrapped up in someone else's arms. The two men fight, with the girlfriend standing in tears shouting for them to stop, and in the end, she screams with frustration, and walks out without either of them noticing, leaving them both still sparring. She couldn't really compare though- her crime was not another man. It was to have another conscience- his- tucked away neatly in her head now.

Or here's another scenario- she would have thrown herself on his shoulder and blurted out the whole story- crying all the while for added effect, of course. Then Remy would have gone to find that son of a gun to teach him a few lessons- namely chivalry, sensitivity and not to touch another man's girlfriend.

But this is not a soap opera, Rogue thought. Not at all like those crappy dramas which Kitty never failed to miss every week. It was even worse when she would insist Rogue watch them with her.

The memory coalesced with the dark corners of her mind and disappeared.

This was her nightmare if she couldn't make Remy understand. Hadn't she had once said to someone: "…can't live without him, in this life or the life in the grave. Neither is acceptable..." Hadn't these words been about him? Why, Rogue thought desperately, why things would never go right with them? Because they were too alike? Rogue could not put her thoughts in any order at all, nor could she forgive herself.

Rogue absentmindedly sipped at her beer, which was suitably disguised in a bottle of chocolate milk she had emptied in Ororo's money plants placed atop the largest kitchen window sill. She wondered how much she had drunk already. Not being a regular drinker, the stuff had hit her empty stomach hard with a jolt. The stash of empty beer cans under her bed would be discovered soon, she calculated. Especially if she carried on like this. Especially by Logan, when he came back from wherever he had gotten himself drowned in a pond. Nevertheless, the slightly sweet, pungent smell of alcohol, the burning in her throat- all made her feel good. It had downed the rather tense and consternation-filled thoughts knitted in her head - like a multicolored pattern which appears on sidewalk on a rainy day. They shimmered and diffused into her normal thinking zone, toying with the edges of ordinary everyday thoughts in a confused spectrum.

They had come back to the mansion two days ago, and parted. Not like two halves of an explosive. Just like drops of rain; when they fall on the earth and spread out, but join together to float in a stream towards endless night – running into the dark covers of fetid-smelling gutters, under cars and shadowy pipes.

Some foolish, nostalgic part of her hoped they would join together, but turning the parts of conversation which she remembered in her mind over and over, she realized what a callow romantic she was. It would be impossible for him to trust her now.

_Endless Night_. She muffled a snort, sucking in a breath as she wiped at her mouth, smearing the dark lipstick over her pale cheek. The past two nights had been hell for her. Bloody-red bands of wispy clouds blew around like cigarette smoke under her heavy eyelids if they fell down. Rogue had not been able to stop replaying the scenes of Thursday morning in her head. Although it had been a short, point-blank exchange- and yet all those words ringing with emotion had vividly blazed themselves in her mind's eye. It had been one helluva morning. They had talked, first calmly and rationally, then gradually with increasing frequency of passion, and in the end, everything had just spilled, crumbled, broken - and in her frustration she done something she had thought she would not normally be able to bring herself to do. Was everything forgiven? Would she be able to look at him with her torn thoughts running in her head? At night when she would try to sleep, the memory would grow opaque and try to surface as she would be nodding off. Endless night, she thought. Sort of fitting. If she didn't get some sleep soon, she would become an insomniac, and every night would be an endless night. A part of the conversation came back to her, plangent voices resounding loudly in her head. Loud, angry voices. _Ah can't hear you_, she thought vainly. No use in lying to herself.

Standing near the window, he had been saying something like, "... owe you de truth…can't really tell y'…. an' I was worried about y'… where did y' go?"

She had walked towards him, then put her hands on his shoulders, saying, "Remy, Ah would appreciate even a little bit of the truth. Give me a hint, something… lemme help ya." Ignoring the last two questions, of course.

He had frowned, eyes squinting with the intensity of the thoughts he was running over and over in his head. "Wish I could tell y', Rogue…"

"Ya can start by tellin' me what was in the wallet. Ah'll help ya look for it. That's what Ah was out for, thinking Ah could help ya."

"So y' didn't follow me?" He nodded, as if agreeing to a decision he had made in his mind. Something seemed to dim in his face. Rogue stared at him- was it hidden relief? He was so damn good at hiding his facial emotions… and looking so damn good when he screwed up his eyes and scrunched up his forehead, and the light played over the handsome planes of his face. Apparently, he was thinking hard.

Rogue had steadied herself, then looked down at her feet. They ached so…

Frowning, he added, "What took y' so long? I thought I was out f'r only hour or so, and y' turned up later than I did..." He stopped short. "What happened? Did y' run inta someone?" Protectively, he stepped towards her, hand outstretched.

She ignored it. "Sorta, but Ah got away. It don't matter now, Swamp Rat, don't change the subject. Spill- what was in yo' wallet?"

Putting on an admirable display featuring nonchalance, he drawled, "Somethin' important."

That look did not fool her. Rogue had groaned inwardly, thinking how much she hated this part. She wanted to strangle him.

"Come on, Rems, if ya tell me something it ain't gonna kill ya." Special emphasis on the words _tell_ and _kill_. "Lemme in. Ah wanna help ya." She had pleaded this time. Remy had gritted his teeth and hurled a haunted, gaping wound of a look at her. It had made her want to stick a knife in her heart and bleed out his pain, _their_ pain. "Why don't y' get it? This is all real, Rogue." he had ground out. "Sometimes, de past claws its way out," he had explained. "When y' think dat y're safe, and alone wit' de people y' love…" he paused. "…wit' de _woman_ y' think y' love more than any other y' ever been wit'- s' not gonna last forever. 'S just a false sense of security. I can't drown my ghosts forever." His mouth twitched at this, as if he had swallowed an unpleasant dose of medicine. "They're comin' after m' one by one."

They had locked eyes- exchanging stares. Rogue hadn't felt like continuing the argument, but she had still persisted, "Remy, Ah want them to leave us _alone_. If Ah can ease yo' pain even a little bit, Ah will. If y' were a thief, murderer, beggar or even a ballet dancer in yo' past- Ah don't care. Ah wanna help. Lemme know what's hurtin' ya."

He smirked at her, a bitter, mirthless twist of the lips. "Dat's what y' think," he said. "But when y' will know de things m' done… Hell, even when I think of dem, I just wanna run away."

"But y' can't run fo'ever."

"_Non_."

At this point Rogue had shook her head and turned to him.

"So, yo' not gonna spill? Remy, Ah don't wanna provoke anymo' self-loathing, but… whatevah you did, it can't be that bad, Ah can handle it." She shook him by the shoulders, not entirely sure she wanted to hear what he had to say. Apparently, Remy was having the same thoughts. He gently took her hands in his, looked at her with repressed pain, so deep, so intense- she felt limp as wet cardboard. Somewhere inside her, she felt a cold knot of tension boil over.

"Not now… dis ain't de time." He gestured at the window. "We should be gettin' home."

Her stomach had been twisting with dread; her heart had been racing swiftly, she had swallowed, then said earnestly, "Ah-Ah… Ah hate tah break dis t' ya, Remy… _this is the right time_."

Now that Rogue thought hard about this, Remy had definitely looked alarmed at this announcement. Backing away from her and-

"There's no point in thinking about this," she snarled, back to the present. Rogue barked a bitter laugh. Hell, she was confused! Were they broken up, or just 'waiting on' till they were sure they were actually mad at each other or not? She didn't know how she felt now.

And yet how she tried to remember the last part of their conversation- she could not bring it back. What had he been saying when she had lunged at him and-

"Don't think about it!" she told herself sharply.

There was a blurry page where they should have been saying goodbye.

She picked up a beer can, growling when she saw it was empty, and hurled it under her bed. She had been sitting there for three hours drinking her face off, someone was liable to notice her absence from dinner soon. With all the younger students showing up, the Professor had thought it best to keep alcohol limited to special occasions for the older students, so that there would be no 'bad influence' on the youngsters. Stupid idea, she thought viciously. Most of the students were bad enough without being hooked to drugs or alcohol.

Her eyes wandered over to her surroundings, flickering over the details of every object. The room she shared with Kitty- it was like the room she and Remy had stayed at for their brief sojourn, the one at the hotel. It had been cool, at least in the start.

This room was strangely empty with a tense atmosphere of expectancy which was projected from Rogue's own troubled feelings, although the room was crammed full with an assortment of things. The Garbage poster above her bed. The Harry Potter books on Kitty's side table. Her guitar leaning against the closet door. Kitty's stuffed dragon on the pillow.

The computer. Kitty's laptop.

And a jumble of clothes strewn all over the floor. It looked pleasantly lived in, despite her absence. As soon as they had come back to the Institute, Rogue had ignored everyone's questions and inquiring looks, and had stormed up to her room. She had been strangely happy to see her roommate, despite the banging drum in her head after she had finished crying her eyes out at what she had done.

Nestling the rim of the bottle's mouth under her chin she closed her eyes to float off in a bittersweet, hangover-ish slumber. The bottle slid from her hand onto the carpeted floor with a soft _thunk_ as she sank down into a more relaxed, horizontal position on her mattress, releasing a soft sigh.

_The past claws its way out, _she thought_._

The shadows scurried forward to cloak her face.

***

Nearly half an hour later, when Kitty came to check on Rogue, she was fast asleep. Noticing the pile of cans under her bed, Kitty hung back in the room for a minute, wishing her friend would wake up and drop a ten-ton load of guilt by talking to her. And with her overly expressive eyes- they had just given away everything. She had kept her mouth shut and cried her eyes out- both twice in two days. It had bugged Kitty, who prided on herself on being able to solve other people's problems. Rogue hadn't said much to her, but Kitty knew Rogue had a lot on her mind.

She had no idea how much- but could guess.

At the moment, she could only think of one thing to do that would keep Rogue out of trouble. The least she could do to help her depressed friend.

Ten minutes later, Kitty snuck out of the room to find a good place to hide the empty beer cans.

***

Counting his cards, Remy shuffled them back together. Then counted them again. And again.

He could not think of anything better to do.

Normally at this time of the night, he would be curled up with Rogue on his bed, discussing a wide range of topics from the latest literary theories to card games and New Orleans Saints.

Occasionally, they would sit in silence. Content in each others' presence. Her head on his chest. His chin resting on the top of her head. Fingers laced together, limber, gloved fingers wrapped with strong, calloused fingers. All would be right with the world.

Right now, he was uncomfortably seated on a chair, bedecked in tight T-shirt and faded jeans, with his legs folded under him, cards spread out on the desk. Aces, hearts, spades and clubs, all mixed up together. Sighing, Remy shuffled the cards one last time-ignoring the card at the bottom of the deck- and stuffed them into a pocket of his duster draped over the back of the chair. It fluttered listlessly in the cold breeze squeezing through the open balcony doors, battering against his legs. Recoiling within himself he shuddered slightly; for he hated the intense cold of New York. Normally, he would have someone warm tucked up beside him to make it bearable, but tonight this was not possible. For the first time since he had been staying at the Institute, he thought longingly of home.

His brother and cousins- did they miss him? Sure they did. They knew where he was. Although they didn't contact him frequently, they sent him e-mails and letters which indicated they remembered he existed. And when he had come back- his mouth went dry at this- from the holiday, he had found out that Tante Mattie had sent him a wrapped parcel. Normally he would have ripped open the package and seen what was inside in a frenzy of happiness- happiness that someone wanted to keep in touch with him, loved him and knew his faults but never mentioned the blunders he had made in his past- then read her letters, re-read them. He craved the words as much as the loving spirit of his Tante Mattie. She would be working in the kitchen- kneading dough for bread or cooking from some old tattered book of secret Cajun recipes, and he would come to her in his escape from someone he had pissed off, to hide or to just sit down and chat with her over café au lait. She would never say much to him, except for the tsk-tsk-ing of her sharp tongue, or a light rap of a hand upside his head and light chuckle to indicate her disapproval. Tante would finish off her cooking and then they would talk. Yes, they would talk- talk for long hours until it was time for him to do some job, talking while the scent of spices and Cajun cooking would waft about them. Sometimes he would look up and notice his father standing there, but he never cared that he might have heard something not meant for his ears. Jean-Luc LeBeau always knew everything, anyway- it was no use hiding. It was obvious that he knew where he was right now, but Remy had not received any acknowledgement of this yet.

It suited him just fine.

He looked at the box sitting on the only other chair in his room-which used to be Evan's- and vowed to open it after he would go down to the kitchen to find aspirin for his throbbing head. He hoped he wouldn't run into her. She was like a spectre, turning up in his head when he least wanted her around. He still couldn't believe what she had done- she had wanted to help him, not _hurt_ him…

He refused to let himself think of this now. He remembered nothing before the blinding pain and flashing memories. Their conversation had turned into an argument, with Rogue rounding off a perfect finish by absorbing him. He wondered how many horrible memories of his were floating around in her head, turning her against him.

Immersed in his thoughts, Remy turned left into the corridor and bumped into Kitty, who immediately turned a deep shade of scarlet.

"_Bonnuit_, _petite_." He said, trying to muster up some energy. Inwardly, he hoped to avoid her lectures on his 'woman-troubles' as she called them, and escape to the kitchen.

"H-h-hi," she said, obviously flustered and wanting to escape as well.

"Don't worry, petite, Remy won't tell anyone y' were drinkin' beer." He said absently.

"Huh?" Kitty's eyebrows shot up into her hair. Regaining some composure, she shot at him, "Like, since when did I start drinking?"

He raised an eyebrow back at her. "Dat's de question m' askin' myself. I can smell it all over y', Kitty. I thought y' didn't like pollutin' your system? "

Kitty shuffled her feet and thought hard. She had phased the beer cans down as deep as she could. Maybe the few drops left in the cans had spilled over her. Damn. She suddenly got an idea.

"Like, Remy, you see, like, it happened like this," she hesitated, her mind zooming for an excuse. "So, I was walking in the woods, and I heard someone walking too- like, actually the crunching of leaves beneath their feet. I called out, 'Who's there?' And instead of getting an answer, there's like suddenly a _bam_ and like, you know this person collides with me, something spilled all over me and… and…" Kitty knew that Remy was listening to her just to humor her. Judging by the tautness of his face, he was also having a hard time controlling his laughter.

"It wasn't me, okay?" she spat out defensively. "It was Rogue, I thought I'd help her."

Remy's expression clouded over; he didn't really feel like discussing Rogue right now. But he was curious, nonetheless. He elicited a forced chuckle. "Help her by smuggling beer for her? It don't ever make any person feel better, Remy knows."

Kitty's face reddened, and looked pinched as a walnut. For a moment he could sense her revving up, like she was going to give him a tongue lashing. Immediately, he realized what a dumb thing he had said. Kitty and Rogue had been friends for a long time, and Kitty would never ever do anything to make her unhappy. She always acted in Rogue's best interests, no matter how thorny her attitude would be towards her. She was such a caring, thoughtful person, that for a moment he envied Rogue for having such a good friend. She needed to open her eyes; really, all she ever thought about was how much her powers oppressed her. Rogue thought little of the loving friends she had around her. Still, he thought, she could not be entirely blamed. He had often watched Rogue at gatherings and parties- one moment she would be laughing at a joke and the next she would be standing by a window and stealing glances at the clock, obviously wondering how long they were staying. A habit of solitariness from childhood is not easy to break.

"Kitty, I didn't mean t'- _Je suis desole_," he managed over the tingle of shame creeping up his neck.

Kitty's expression softened, "It's okay," she said. "It's just that- you know, I don't want her to get into trouble. She's got a lot on her mind. So do you."

After a pregnant pause, in which Kitty opened her mouth to speak, then clenched her jaw shut when Remy said, "Don't ask me any questions, petite. I don't wanna lie t' y'."

Kitty nodded, accepting it. She said quietly, "You know, Remy, if either of you want to talk…"

He nodded as well, then both of them parted ways.

Once in the kitchen, Remy automatically poured himself a glass of water and popped an aspirin in his mouth. His headache… he wondered if it would ever go away. For a minute he rested his head on his arms, eyes shut tight. Behind the redness of closed eyelids, he felt an upsurge of fear. He still had to find his lost object… though now he doubted whether he would ever give it to Rogue.

***

Marius Boudreaux's office was large and spacious, decorated to reflect his interests and to rival his nemesis, the Thieves Guild. While Jean-Luc LeBeau's office was drowned in blurry strokes of artwork, old books and antique furniture, so was his house. While Marius's office was filled with various weaponry paraphernalia- from all kinds of knives and ancient rapiers to guns most probably still in use- blended well with time-weathered furnishings distinct from their rivals, so was his mansion. In both houses, state-of-the-art surveillance equipment was visible and less visible: cameras hidden outside and inside, ensuring that someone's privacy wouldn't cost the entire Guilds harm. It was precautionary, essential- needed for survival. Indeed, both Guilds balanced their pride and history to create a mottled balance of the past and present.

Seated in her father's chair, waiting for his return, Belladonna Boudreaux wondered if she would ever be able to forgive herself. She had let Remy go. She had never done that before. _You pay the price for everyone you've wronged_, ran the tiresome refrain in her head, and she answered it as well. _So will Remy_.

Belladonna Boudreaux was lithe, powerful, beautiful- and carrying on the family business- that is, being a trained professional killer. She had received training throughout her life from an expert- her father. Each day, she spent hours training with guns, explosives and the traditional knives as well. Her nights were filled with colorful, though admittedly repulsive scenes of gore. She knew how to please her clients, and she always knew how to get what she wanted.

Bella poured herself another glass of Marius Boudreaux's favorite wine, making sure she left some for him. He would surely need some after she would tell him what had happened. The censored and edited version she had planned out in her head was this: she had gone to New York, confronted him. He had fought a bit, then that girl Rogue had stepped in. What next? Distraction and escape. She was wondering if he would buy it.

At the thought of that girl- she immediately sat up, swearing. How she despised her! How was she good enough for him? She, who had little past, and could not be touched… how on earth… she sat down, her chest heaving with rage. She breathed slowly out from her nostrils, as if trying to filter her jealousy.

Mentally, Bella checked out the information that had turned up on her. As soon as she had come back to New Orleans, she had ordered a thorough back ground search. Nothing much had turned up, but still the info that had turned up was plenty interesting. She recalled the basic details, counting them off in her head like a shopping list:

_**Real Name:**__ Unknown_

_**Alias:**__ Rogue_

_**Species:**__ Human Mutant_

_**Team affiliations**__: X-Men_

_Brotherhood of Mutants_

_**Abilities**__: Absorption of memories, skills, and powers through skin to skin contact. The longer the contact occurs, the longer Rogue will retain the abilities or memories. If she maintains contact for long enough, the absorption is permanent._

Belladonna knew her father would be interested. In them, lay her revenge. Also this was only the basic information, but it had tons of potential- for destruction and perhaps, death. She would punish Remy through his whore.

"Soon," she murmured, letting a hand glide over the knife in her pocket. It was time to turn the tables. Leaning back, she let the pleasing thought of revenge drown out her jealousy.

***

Rogue lay in his arms- warm, soft and still. She hummed slightly, and Remy could feel the rumble of vibrations pass from her ribcage, and land into his chest. He leaned down and let his chin play with her auburn curls. The sunlight shone down softly through the trees, and flickered over their bodies in a waving, undulating pattern. _Sheer heaven_, Remy thought as she curled a bare arm around Rogue's bare shoulders. A bubble of bliss burst through him, filling his senses with a warm, tingling sensation. Everyday should be like this.

"Y' know, Ah had the strangest dream last night," she smiled up at him, twisting her head around.

"Eh, did y'?" he cocked a mischievous smile at her. "Any comments?"

"Nothing printable," she said, and laughed, burying her head in his muscular chest. He laughed as well, albeit his mirth briefly punctuated by twang in his chest as he wondered whether he had ever been this happy with Belle. He had loved her, yes-somehow, he wasn't her lover forever. He belonged to Rogue now.

Rogue hiccupped a few times before controlling herself. She sat up , letting him rest his chin on her shoulder now. She shivered slightly as he placed a tiny, brief kiss on her neck.

She had never done that before. Was something wrong?

"No, it was different," she paused. She crawled away from him to sit on the ground cross- legged, then let her hand flow to the pocket of the shorts she wore. Remy got up, watching her carefully. He had a sudden sense of ominous foreboding.

"What was it?" he asked.

She grimaced slightly. "Y' wouldn't like t' know."

Remy stare at her. She was definitely different now. Wasn't her voice changing, her heavy Southern accent becoming faint?

"Tell m'." his tone was cautious.

"I killed y', Remy." She sighed when she saw him twitch slightly. "I knew y' wouldn't like t' hear dis."

Now Remy was fully alert. He sat up too, no longer complacent. Her manner was changed now. Her face had a rather indifferent, flushed look to it.

"How?" he asked, edging towards her.

The topic is a favorite. "I killed y' wit' a knife. I plunged it in yo' throat, slit it- from ear t' ear, left t' right." She smiled as she gestured for effect, then continued, "Y' didn't die at once, so I tried passing the knife through yo' heart."

"Did it work?"

"_Oui_."

Now Remy was sure she was not Rogue, but some evil, ancient ghost, some lunatic. Or maybe _he_ was losing his mind.

The beautiful, auburn-haired girl smiled cruelly as she drew a knife from her pocket. "Remy, y' know they say that sometimes, dreams come true."

"Non! Where's m' Rogue? What've y' done wit' her! Bring her back!" he lunged at her, fingers gnarled into claws as if to gouge her eyes out. In his fury, he didn't think of the knife, or the pain as it slashed through his throat. He fell over her- the blood flowing from the wound onto her clean white shirt, dripping over her face and arms. She shoved him off her, an expression of disgust warping her elegant features.

Remy lay there, gasping for air on the ground. Everywhere, there was blood…he had to find Rogue and bring her to him…

He must have said this aloud, for before him she said, "Y' have no need t' look f'r her, cher. M' sending y' t' de same place she went." Her mirthless smile could have cracked mirrors.

As his world blurred before him, he could see the face of the phantom Rogue morph into clean, aquiline features with sharp blue eyes, the hair shifting into a silky blond.

Remy's thought was _Belladonna_…., before death stole all sight.

****

She could not be comforted. Kitty wrapped blankets around her shoulders, asked again and again what was wrong, if she should get the Professor- all this Rogue responded to with a shake of her head, crying all the while. Kitty felt she was minutes to breaking down herself.

"But tell me Rogue, what's wrong!" her voice sounded tinny and small.

Rogue didn't know. Remy dying? Maybe.

Rogue had felt each and every emotion in that dream. Her heart, it felt, was bursting at the seams. Part of her felt she should run to Remy and bring him back to life- the other half was adamant it was just a nightmare- a _very_ real nightmare-, nothing more. She had felt the worry when he discovered the shifting changes in that other girl, the pure, unadulterated terror when he was sure she was not her, and the panic when he realized he needed to find her. Of course, this had never happened, she assured herself.

She succeeded in controlling tears and a shaking Kitty, with assurances it was a horrible nightmare.

But one thought possessed her all night, leaving her no peace.

Who was Belladonna?

**

Hi everyone! I'm back, with my exams done. Now let's see…

Solitaire: Card game in which players rearrange cards into order. Here, Remy and Rogue sifting through their thoughts to figure things out, with little success.

Endless night: no special connection to the novel by Agatha Christie, just liked the title.

Bella's info on Rogue: from Wikipeida, with some additions by myself.

Nothing much really, but lets hope everyone likes this chapter. And you do know what to do when you know you like it :-)


	8. By Moonlight, By Daylight

I thought I was never going to be able to finish this chapter. Blame it on power cuts, humidity-heavy hot climate and my own laziness. Not to mention lack of ideas in the beginning. Thanks to some brainwaves –and quick typing- now here it is!

**A bit of language in this chapter…if, you could call it that.**

**Chapter 8:** **By Moonlight, By Daylight**

This was becoming another night of sleeplessness.

Rogue turned over to her right, trying to ignore Kitty's covert looks from under her arm. If she wasn't pretending to be asleep, then surely Kitty would have grabbed Rogue by the collar and shook her in hopes of knocking sense into her and getting something out of her at the same time. Why, just before they had climbed into their beds, she had said: _Remember, Rogue, there's like no use in making yourself miserable, _followed by a self-assertive nod_._ Though it was good, well-meaning advice, Rogue was in no mood to follow it right now. What she was interested in was bursting in on Remy in the shower first thing in the morning- when he was still sleepy and more exposed- and extracting a pack of memories from him with a kiss. Rogue puckered her lips distastefully and gagged silently into her pillow, a bubble of laughter welling up in inside her. She muffled it, wondering what was wrong with her. Maybe she should have opted for the Journalism course at college. That was what journalism was for, wasn't it? Searching for the truth, by hook or by crook. Ah, the truth. She would have that word tattooed on her butt someday.

On her side, she watched the seconds on the digital clock speed by. Rogue lay still, chewing absently on her lip, staring at the ceiling, where branches of an old oak tree threw moving smudges like shadow puppets performing a creepy tap dance and Kitty's light, rhythmic breathing became more pronounced, signifying she had finally fallen asleep. Rogue rubbed her cheeks unconsciously, the skin still tight from having a good, long cry.

The clock read _3: 30 _AM.

She turned onto her other side to see Kitty curled up, the blankets bunched up her right arm. Carefully sitting up and pushing her blanket aside, Rogue got up, the springs creaking slightly. A lone sliver of light impaled the split between the curtains. Rogue frowned and rubbed her forehead this time, where a dull headache had begun to rap her temporal lobes. Her dream was emblazoned in her mind, teasing her. The scene replayed in her head, again and again, again and again…

Belladonna killing Remy…

_Belladonna… Remy… _

She sounded the names in her head like a broken record, trying to make some sense out of them. She had touched Remy. So, like every time she touched someone she had a chunk of his memories locked away in a corner of her mind, of which Belladonna was one. Combined with her fears and confusion, she figured it had slipped up to taunt her. The memory of an old girlfriend, taunting her. Anyway, from what little memories she could see of his, he had been with a ton of girls, so many, that from he never remembered their names, or just snippets of them drawn together to take pride in how much he was desired by the opposite sex. Each had been something to fulfill a need, a longing, or just for fun, to pass the long night. Apparently, he didn't like to sleep alone. Rogue had found that out the first night he was here in the Institute.

Yet this girl, Belladonna, she had been something important. She hadn't just been a one-night stand, she had been a part of his life- a special part. And one, Rogue dimly felt, was tied in with the secrets of the entire mysterious Lebeau family.

_Belladonna… Remy…_

And now her insane mind, playing cruel tricks with her.

_Belladonnna… Remy… Rogue…_

Three maybe a crowd, but three could play a game too. A deadly game of love. She wasn't going to give him up so easily. A gnawing sensation seemed to start in her stomach, with a lump rising up her throat. Rogue let out a slight whimper, clenching her jaw shut to stifle the noise as a tear slid down her cheek. She hurriedly wiped it away, shifting a quick glance from the windows to Kitty and wrapping her arms around her, hugging herself. She needed something to eat.

Rogue pulled at her pyjama top, so that it would cover more of her stomach, and hurried out of her room. Her feet moved of their own accord to the most familiar path she had walked in the recent years. Straight to Remy's room. Noiselessly, Rogue opened the door and slid in, shutting it with great care behind her. Turning around, she half-expected to see a half-naked Remy sprawled on his stomach, asleep or else up with a deck of cards spread out in a solitary game of solitaire. Her gaze flew along the whole length of the room, darkening as it progressed until her eyebrows knit together.

Moonlight washed into the room, dousing everything in a pale replica of molten silver. On the bed, Rogue could see sheets bunched up on one side, as if moments ago someone had thrown them aside to clamber out of bed. Everything else was the same. Rogue jutted her chin and scowled horribly; wishing she was strong enough to go after Remy and drag his stubborn self back from whatever brothel he was enjoying himself in.

***

Remy Lebeau weaved his way through the crowded bar, dodging drunks and prostitutes out looking for a good catch, then settled comfortably on a stool at the counter. As he ordered a beer, Remy couldn't help but smirk around at the sights around him. Half a dozed were watching him excitedly, one even whispering something about him behind her hand to a giggling friend, blushing as she realized he was looking at him.

Remy felt no desire to spend the night with someone, but he could surely enjoy the look on Rogue's face as she would see him stagger in at three in the morning drunkenly strode in, loudly proclaiming he had had the best sex of his life.

The thought didn't bring a spike of pleasure to him, but instead let loose a blot of guilt in him. That Rogue was certainly an addictive drug. Once you let her in your life she was determined to stay, rushing through his veins, in every thought and action, right or wrong. When was he going to get over her?

He decided to leave that question for later as one particularly fine specimen of a female human being took a seat beside him, smiling at him as if she knew the most delicious secret ever.

***

The morning rose bleak and cold, bringing with it moody rain clouds Rogue wished they would strike someone with lightening.

So this morning was cold, and she didn't feel any better that last night. In fact, she felt worse and had snapped at everyone who had been unlucky enough to step in her way. Winter today perfectly matched the miserable coldness inside. Last night had been an agony of pain. Yet today she could also feel a terrible compassion inside, and it hurt even more.

Oh well, it was no use moaning about it. She had finally gotten used to. At first, winter had been an evil that returned every year to make her miserable, cranky and touchy like an ice cube on hot coals. She thought of the past years spent in Caldecott Country, among the fields and simple houses scattered across the countryside, resplendent in the thick humidity, with the river . Each memory was a whisper of something she thought long forgotten, returning with a fragile pull from the depths of her mind to the surface, spilling forth rich details. Rogue missed her home badly now, yet she couldn't remember wanting to go back before- she had been so happy.

Last night's bout of melancholy certainly had been no help, and since that dream, Rogue had found herself wanting things she hadn't thought of in a long time.

Anyway, life goes on, she thought grimly, clenching her teeth as her stomach rumbled.

Rogue miserably blew on her coffee and sipped at it, grimacing at its bitterness. Sighing, she put it back on the table.

This morning certainly wasn't helping either. The screaming kids, happy people and snuggling lovers in shadowed doorways wherever she went- the world was disgustingly cheerful. For Rogue, it was to a snarling, sleep-deprived and unhappy, black and white world. The entire world it seemed had faded to black and white. Now, it was a matter of choice who to shove in which category. She would decide that later.

Wondering whether Remy had come back from his nightly tour, Rogue self-consciously tucked her arms across her chest and frowned at them, then looked up to glance out at the steel-colored sky briefly. The aching pain in her heart seemed to lessen a bit.

Again that dream teased her as she wondered what girl he gotten off with. Whenever she closed them, she would see herself in Remy's arms, morphing into that girl Belladonna. She took another sip of her coffee and raked her hands through her hair, then let her head collapse onto the table. Her skull hit the wooden surface with a hard thunk, and although Rogue winced, the throbbing left side did not compare to the pulling chords in her heart, singing their tragic symphony. Some crazy shit.

If her heart had been able to sing, what would it say?

No doubt, "Happy now?"

"Look what you've done," she whispered to herself. "Yo' were watchin' over him. Now you hate him and love him- you don't know how he feels."

A loud clang made her turn around. At the stove, there was Remy, who had just banged a frying pan on it, and was now scrambling eggs. He was determinedly avoiding looking at her, instead focusing intently on his eggs, scrambling them with a fork, and then dropped them in a pool of melted butter on the frying pan. He had walked in without alerting her.

Rogue nervously clutched her throat and took a long sip of her coffee, her throat blistering. As her breath caught in her throat and the flow of oxygen seemed to abandon her brain, she felt like someone had plugged her windpipe. Heart beating fast, she glanced briefly at her other half to see whether he was paying any attention to her at all.

Remy was bent over the frying pan, carefully turning over the eggs. His hands, so steady they could pick the most delicate lock, and so dexterous, were trembling slightly. Rogue wondered how much pain she had caused him that every nerve in his body was on fire in her presence. Or, how much he had drunk last night. Steadying herself, praying she wouldn't faint, she tried to focus on the patch of table between her outstretched hands, stark white at the knuckles. Well, if she didn't faint, she could fall in front of him, or better yet, he could stop her fall. To land in his arms and gaze in his eyes… it wasn't entirely an unwelcome thought.

Rogue inhaled the delicious smell of frying eggs and felt her stomach rumble- she needed her breakfast.

Remy would always share everything with her…

The mug off coffee spilled as she got up, shaking.

….assuming he woke up from this frozen state of his and talked to her.

Rogue's stomach turned over. If he wouldn't talk to her, then how about she could talk to him? She wanted to know if he couldn't bear having her around anymore, then fine, she could find someone else and be miserable for the rest of her stupid life. She stood up determined to solve this mess, to talk to him. Heart thumping wildly, she hyperventilated a few times before walking up to him, each step a struggle to move a foot that felt stuck to the floor. _Ah don't wanna do this_, her mind wailed. _Lemme run away!_

Remy was leaning over the toaster, watching the toast turn brown and crisp, with his hands stretched over it to warm them. He didn't look up as she approached, choosing instead to get his eyebrows singed off by the toaster. The impulse to pull him back from it was swallowed by fright as he turned to look at her, his eyes smoldering ashes.

Inside, Remy felt a coldness that had nothing to do with the winter weather. It came from being cornered by her.

"Quoi?" he demanded, without any inflection in his voice.

She couldn't answer at first, needing to unstuck her throat. Rooted on the spot, Rogue tried to avoid breathing in his cologne as she said, "Ah have to talk to yo', Remy."

"De name's _Gambit_," he said, placing delicate emphasis on the last word. He turned back to his toast, which was beginning to burn.

Rogue swallowed the lump in her throat as the world as the world around her turned grey. In a quavering voice, she said, "Yo' ain't gonna let me call yo' by yo' own name?"

Pulling the pieces of charcoal out of the toaster, he said, "_Non_. Not anymore. Y' didn't want t' call m' Remy in de first place, remember?" he tossed the charred toast into the bin. They made a clattering sound, exhaling black dust as they landed on an empty box of Fruit loops.

Of course she remembered. She had been too embarrassed by his flirting with her in the start to call him by his own name. Also, it was her way of resisting him: it meant back off. But now, his name would pass like a fleeting ghost through her heart, to bring forth thoughts of him in her mind, to her lips, and back to the heart. She would wake in the middle of the night from a bad dream, or just sleeplessness, and whispering his name aloud meant wrapping a warm blanket of protection and comfort around herself. She was never lonely.

She decided to humor him for now, feeling a knot of sadness curdle in her heart. "Alright. Ah have to talk to yo', Gambit."

"Y' said dat already." he said, sliding in fresh toast. "Y' got 2 minutes."

His cold, indifferent attitude made her want to slap him with her bare hand, but Rogue restrained herself. After all, hadn't _she_ done the damage?

"Okay, then. Ah'll make a speech for someone who ain't even listenin'." she said sarcastically, folding her arms in front of her chest. A swelling bubble of anger had slowly started to diffuse from her insides, making her feel numb as all vestiges of fear were doused. Anger was so close to the surface these days.

"'M listenin'. Shoot." He didn't even bat an eyelash, only mimicked her hard tone.

"Fine." She took a deep breath. "Ah need tah say Ah'm sorry for something someone once did, and they did it without thinkin'. They feel like they and you stand someplace weird and shaky and all … _uncertain_… and they wanna be sure whether yo' can stand being in their presence anymo', so that they can stay out of yo' way forever. Until, at least, yo' want them tah come back, of course." _Did Ah mention they were sorry?_

The toast popped out. Sliding them into his plate, Remy turned towards the table.

Rogue cleared her throat. "So?"

He didn't turn around. "So what?"

"Whaddaya suppose Ah should tell 'em?"

He slammed his plate on the table, shoving the chair backwards. "Dat dey can go on wit'out m'. Dey can go t' hell."

Rogue stood behind him, white-faced and furious, unable to speak. Before starting on his breakfast, he turned around and flashed her his prize-winning smirk, and said, "Aren't y' gonna go tell 'em?"

"No!" she retorted angrily. "Y' don't mean it!"

Remy faked a dramatic sigh, his eyes rolling upwards. He said, "Dat's called being in a state o' denial. Now, 'm heard many girls say dat… so is dis de part where m' should back away?" He smirked, fluttering his eyelashes.

"If yo' keepin' that smirk on yo' face, then you better." She said with saccharine sweetness, a statement completely at odds with the deadly expression on her face. From his vantage point, Remy could imagine seeing steam puffing out from Rogue's ears.

"Take it back." she deadpanned.

"_Non_." he said firmly, cramming a piece of toast in his mouth.

"Then tell me 'bout Belladonna."

The words had the desired effect. Remy made a show of acting he hadn't heard it, at the same time she could see his hands shaking slightly as they wiped themselves on a tissue paper and tore open a pack of cigarettes, putting one in his mouth and lighting it, sparing her a brief glance. He stopped fidgeting long enough to take a breath and take a deep pull at the cigarette. Rogue waited, feeling her gorge rise at how someone could smoke for breakfast.

When he blew out the smoke, Rogue braced herself for his answer. Impatiently, she hissed, "Who was that girl? Ah know yo' knew her."

"Y' said it y'rself. She was a girl 'm knew once." Remy grimaced inside. It wasn't entirely a lie though. Bella was the only girl he had actually known, besides the one before him.

"Ah mean yo' knew her well. _Very_ well."

He blew smoke towards her, which only made Rogue cough and wave it away. Right now, she couldn't help but wonder if she should repeat history.

"She was somethin' to you. And Ah mean somethin' important." She pressed on.

All he could think of saying was, "Y' dat desperate?"

"Men. You and yo' naggin' dirty thoughts. Then you want me to steal another chunk from yo' memories?" Rogue scoffed.

Remy let out a bitter laugh. "Fine, den," he said ascetically. "Read m' thoughts an' memories, sniff into de secrets of m' inner life. But be careful how deep y' dig, Rogue… it might be a dark ride."

Rogue didn't even bother coming up with a response, thinking briefly how she hated morning.

****

Across the country, in New Orleans, Louisiana, Mattie Baptiste kneaded the bread dough, watching her former charge stride back and forth across the kitchen, the bright fluorescent lights reflecting off the shiny surfaces of various kitchen appliances. Bella tucked back a strand of hair and glared around at the walls, breathing heavily. Mattie sighed and wondered how any years had passed, and the wounds were still wide open. She hadn't forgiven him, and now here was Belladonna talking about blood and how someone was going to pay. And no one could bring the dead back.

"Tante," she continued, "He was dere, as cool as y' please, not even surprised t' see me. How could he have forgotten 'bout me? And how could he be wit' dat girl whom he can't even touch?" she turned to her, gazing at Mattie with misted eyes. Mattie felt the beginnings of annoyance starting to blot out her sympathy, for when was Belladonna going to wake up and realize her so-called husband was _actually_ happy, more than he had been with her, and he deserved to be so? Assassins were unreasonable, no matter how hard you could try to knock it out of them. They had little conscience. Thieves on the other hand, were profound thinkers with brains well-tuned to manipulating people and making machinations to make their living and make ends meet. But she couldn't take sides, not right now. Nor could she deny that Assassins could plan just as well.

"Chile, y' know dat boy better den dis old lady," she began evenly. Bella snorted. Mattie gave a tired chuckle and continued, rolling the dough over with her dark hands, "He be a difficult one t' read, y' know dat too. Now, how do y' know dat dis girl isn't a way t' forget y'? He can't come t' y', but-"

"But when I came t' him, he wouldn't even talk t' me!" she said, frustrated. "I mean, properly, in de end all he could do was be defensive about dat li'l _salope_ of his-"

"Don't cuss, _cher_." Mattie warned, finishing her kneading and dumping the dough in the oven. "Y' Tante maybe old, but she can still whack y' _petite_ behind wit' a cooking spoon. Y' can never get too old f'r dat, can y'?" she smiled at Bella who gave a watery sort of smile back, her eyes taking on a faraway look. She was obviously remembering some old memory from the nursery room. Mattie sighed and said, "Didn't y' tell him y' were goin' t' kill him?"

Bella stopped pacing, her eyes downcast to the floor, hidden behind a determinedly neutral expression and said, "_Oui_."

"Well, den, dere y' go. Y' should have told him y' miss him instead." She washed the dough off her hands, keeping a sharp glance out of the corner of the eye towards Belle. If that little sparkle appeared in her blue eyes, then she would know all was alright with her child.

"Maybe y' right," Bella finally conceded, stopping at the oven to glance at the bread inside, then hugged her. Mattie felt relieved; it was not often she could make Bella see reason. She could feel Bella's acquiescence a warm current in her, flowing from Bella to her own body. Mattie felt triumphed, and said gently, "Y' still love him, non?"

Bella let go and said, "Don't tell _Pere. _He ain't gonna like dis." She thoughtfully tapped her fingers on the counter, and said, "I don't know what I was doin' goin' out dere t' take his life."

Mattie laughed slightly and said, "Don't y' worry about dat. Y' still young, y' know dat? No matter what y' _pere_ thinks, f'r y' Tante y' still dat _petite_ who could beat up all de boys, including her future husband. Y' weren't thinkin' den, and y' certainly weren't thinking now." Bella laughed too, but at the back of her mind there was the ghost of the thought that if she could get Remy back, she would have to get rid of a little Rogue.

As if the thought had floated out of her mind, Mattie said, "An' don't y' go worryin' 'bout dat girl, eh? She gonna see soon dat she ain't worth him." She said that just to reassure herself and Bella, because she knew that when Remy got attached to something he felt he could abandon Belle for, it certainly meant the opposite for what she had just said. She didn't know who this girl was but she hoped whoever she was, she would be good for her Remy and make him happy. Belladonna wasn't quite the picture of familial bliss. She had no intention of giving Bella false hope either, but sometimes she couldn't help having favorites.

Bella sat down on the center island, her casual denims sliding over the flawless marble. She gave a sigh and said, "I just wish I could turn back time."

The words struck Mattie like a chord. It appeared she had been wrong about Assassins not having a conscience. Turning off the tap, she said, "Bella, m' remember makin' wishes all the time. D' y' know what m' used t' do? Go t' de tomb of Marie Laveau, in de old Saint Louis cemetery." The words, laced in her Creole accent, sounded wistful and dreamy, in some time from the past. Bella looked up from her hands and said softly, "It's just an old story. Marie Laveau was a witch, right?"

"She was a witch, alright. An' a damn fine one t' y' should know."

"An' she had all sorts of clients- both black and white." Bella murmured, thinking hard. "Her daughter was a witch too. People came t' her all time f'r help, an' now dat she's gone, an' people still come t' her. Is de mausoleum hers, or her daughter's? Her name was Marie Laveau too, I read dat someplace."

Mattie's eyes twinkled. "I'm not sure, Bella. But y' know, sometimes wishes can come true, don't we? M' remember de old mausoleum. It be standin' in an area not very safe anymore, but dat don't matter t' y', right? We would make our wish an' leave our offerings, but in dose days, well-" she laughed, the warmth of it a golden joy, "-'s long before y', Bella, or Remy,'s longer den m' care t' admit, and y'old Tante can tell y', dose days-" she sighed. "-dose days were somethin', different from dese troubled times we are livin' in now. Ain't dat right, cher? Y' pere says dere gonna be trouble sometime now, eh?" When Bella gave no response, she continued, "T' get back t' de story. An' de wishes we made, well, m' just gonna say we all got what we deserv'd." She looked at Bella, her chest swelling with some unknown pride, wrinkled dark face haloed by the bright bandana tied around her head. Bella studied her. To her, Tante didn't appear to be lying and her expression did not betray any hint of mischief. Just an old, old woman telling tales to someone probably young enough to be her great-granddaughter. She shrugged, her mind in a turmoil of uncertainty. "It was some voodoo, wasn't it, Tante?" she mumbled.

"_Non_, chile. Somethin' different. Y' just have t' go t' dat place and y' can feel it f'r y'rself. It's just an aura in de air, 's heavy in de air wit' de presence o' de dead, dose who've left us-"

"Ghosts?" Bella scrunched up her nose skeptically.

"Spirits," Mattie explained, "An' dey not bad, dey can help. Now, 'm realize dis may be hard t' believe, or sounds like somethin' made up t' scare li'l kids but what m' just tellin' y' is-" she paused, drawing in a breath. " Sometimes y' need de help of de dead t' get what y' want."

"I think I get it." said Bella quietly. "De Big Easy, everyone says it's all haunted. Dat's all de tourists an' ghost hunters come t' see."

Mattie put her hands on her hips and tut-tutted slightly, "Y' mean y' get it, but y' don't."

Belladonna's eyes burned. "I don't care. Tell m' how t' find dis grave and exactly how t' make dis wish."

Her heart fluttering in her ribcage like a butterfly, Mattie obliged.

***

In 1874 as many as twelve thousand spectators, both black and white, swarmed to the shores of Lake Pontchartrain to catch a glimpse of Marie Laveau II performing her legendary rites on St. John's Eve.

Belladonna considered this, as she stood in front of the Greek-Revival style, white crumbling tomb in the St. Louis cemetery. After running a quick search on the Internet, she had come here herself, insisting Mattie leave her alone for this. Her car stood outside the walls of the cemetery, right in front of a sign that said: "Enter alone at your own risk." Naturally, she had ignored it, but had been wary as she entered the twisting maze of mausoleums, some crumbling, but others intact and glowing in the late afternoon sun. So far, everything had been pretty innocent-looking like any other cemetery, with flowers resting on some graves and a tightly-packed tour group about to leave. She had avoided them, heading straight for where ever she could find the mausoleum. Tante had told her about its appearance. It was unmistakable; impossible to miss.

The sun-kissed walls seemed delicate and fragile, ephemeral things, yet with an eternal finish; ancient but determined to survive. A touch would send them dissolving into dust, she thought, as she caressed the crosses drawn on the rough surface, putting as little pressure as possible with her smooth fingers, some carelessly scrawled with black charcoal, others bright enough to be red brick dust but dark enough to be blood dried in the sun. Of course it was red brick, she reasoned. No one was foolish enough to slit open their own wrists for drawing the crosses for a wish- unless they were desperate enough, yes. But that was not part of the spell. What you _were_ supposed to do was knock three times on the wall of the mausoleum, ask aloud for your wish, draw three crosses on it and leave your offering on the ground. Belladonna ran her fingers over the red crosses again, her braided hair rolling to rest on her shoulder as she leaned forward to caress the smudged crossed again. Grains of concrete flitted down like blood from an open wound, and red brick dust clung possessively to her fingers, to rest with the debris of offerings left for the spirit: coins, cigars, rum, candles, flowers and Mardi gras beads- all in true voodoo tradition

If the mausoleum wasn't marked and located elsewhere, or holding such a person's remains that afforded its fame, any passersby would have walked by it assuming the small building to be a forgotten and graffiti-covered public bathroom. Not many people realized its importance, Bella mused. It was a sign of history, a symbol, a legacy of centuries, for those who still followed the ancient art of Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans. Not just a tourist attraction meant for vandalism, and foolish rites. The unknowing tourists relished the sensational garbage spewed by guides hungry for money, and they lapped it up like water. Not the true way at all, no.

_Her eyes_

_Lit up with Fire _

_For the dreams _

_She entertained . . . _

_Seems something in her _

_Knew already _

_Just how well _

_They'd burn. _

_A.R.P. _

_11-19-00._

She read the emotions in the crosses and initials once again, fingered them again, imagining the hopeful people who had traveled to this city, seen everything and seen all, but came down here in the middle of cypress-shrouded, mystery-drowned graveyards with these ancient, breathtakingly beautiful mausoleums silent in the still primitive beauty of New Orleans almost as if they beckoned them. All for a wish, that could come true or not.

She was going to become one of them.

Bella took a quick around. These cemeteries were dangerous; everything from poison ivy and snakes to meth labs and prostitutes lurked within the narrow paths and crooked, crumbling mausoleums were a perfect place for hidden surprises- namely thieves, muggers, pickpockets and the occasional homeless people, who cajoled unaware tourists into giving them money. Or just took it.

Marius Boudreaux wasn't home yet. She had enough time to make her wish.

Sucking in a breath, she stepped forward cautiously. "Beautiful Marie Laveau." She began. Her stilted voice was buried under the hum of birds and rustling leaves, under the weight of the heavy mantle of silence and haunting dread that settled over the white tomb. Mattie was right, she thought. There was something powerful about this place. It was a feeling that the whole of New Orleans shared, but very, very strong here. Very strong.

"I don't know how to do this," she continued, toying with the beads in her hands she had brought as offering. "I am here t' ask of y' t' grant me a wish." Bella paused again, tilting her head so that her thick braided hair fell to one side. The crescendo of mockingbirds, sparrows and insect music continued relentless, uninterrupted but the silence besides them was thick enough to pour into a bottle. It was unnatural.

It was also vaguely frightening.

She could feel the beginning of unnerved senses become to overcome her. Bella could did not believe in ghosts and knew she could take on the toughest thug, but a whisper at the back of her mind told her to hurry up, urged her to make her wish quick, to not waste any more time.

"M' wish is for you t' ….."

Inside, Bella knew that the volume of her voice was getting lower and lower, until it dropped to a mere whisper, but she didn't care. Marie Laveau- if she could hear her- would grant her wish; she could hear her still.

And if she didn't, then Bella knew how to get what she wanted.

***

The late morning sun shone through a break into the clouds and highlighted the inhabitants inside the Xavier's Institute for the Gifted. While most of the younger students were in the Danger Room, others were engaged in more productive activities.

In the living room, as Rogue thudded the vacuum cleaner on the carpet savagely, Kitty called out to her warningly, "Don't break it, Rogue! We're gonna end up having to pay up for that and I'm like too-tally broke..." With a sigh, Kitty looked up from her dusting, only to see Rogue furiously shoving an arm chair from its place with unnecessary force and added, "You talked to him didn't you? To Re-"

She phased just in time to avoid the cushion which passed through her stomach and fell innocently on the floor behind her. With a slight moan, Kitty rubbed her stomach, apparently feeling like she had eaten something wrong for breakfast.

"Don't yo' speak that name again!" Rogue bellowed, then added, "An' quit makin' the dust fly on to the floor!" She resumed her vacuuming, dragging the machine over the carpet like a corpse, expression hard and determinedly angry. Her hair spilled in places where the makeshift tignon failed to hold them back from her face. Rogue puffed at a white lock of hair; it only fluttered listlessly back onto her forehead. Tucking it behind an ear, she resumed her vacuuming, occasionally stopping to shift around a pair of shoes and socks or skateboard to vacuum under them.

"Rogue," Kitty began tensely, "What did he say?" Rogue let out a howl of pure fury and hurled another cushion at Kitty, who squeaked and ducked; it hit a framed picture and both fell down, the shattering glass flying down on the carpet like the drops of some heavenly rain. Kitty glanced at it momentarily before turning back to Rogue, who was fuming, then back at the picture. It was a picture of some flowers, apparently of no great value. Heaving another sigh, she said timidly, "Rogue, you don't need to take your temper out on me, you know. _I'm_ not the one who's avoiding you!"

Rogue flopped down on the couch. "So what yo' sayin' is, if he comes in here, Ah should throw cushions at _him_?" She lifted her eyes to the ceiling as if looking for answers there. When Kitty didn't reply, she added, "Maybe a vase would be better. Or the vacuum cleaner. Would hurt more. Or maybe his own damned bo staff." Her voice cracking slightly, Rogue silenced herself, fighting the impulse to curse and rant. But she knew that was not going to help, so she just sighed and put her head in her head in her hands. Shoulders slumping, she said in a muffled voice, "Kitty, he told me tah go tah hell."

Kitty gaped at her, deflating. "He didn't! He can't! You know, like, he's a complete gentleman-"

Rogue flung another cushion at her, shaking her head all the while as if she herself didn't believe it, and then spoke harshly, "He did. Sorta."

Kitty sat down next to Rogue and said, "Rogue, I think its time you told me what's going on."

Swallowing hard, she mumbled, "Ah don't think that's gonna help." Rubbing her knuckles against her eyes she got up and grabbed the vacuum cleaner. Kitty looked upset, but said, "Anytime you wanna talk, Rogue, then." She proceeded hurriedly out of the room to get a broom and dustpan to sweep up the glass. On the way she hurtled into Jean who was probably heading towards the living room. Realizing this, Kitty hurriedly said, "Hi Jean. Wouldn't go in the living room if I was you."

Jean didn't look troubled at all. "I'm not surprised. Did I hear something break in there?"

Kitty nodded. "Just a picture frame. Nothing, like, of great value."

Jean sighed; it seemed everyone was doing that a lot these days. "Rogue threw it at you?"

"No." said Kitty loyally. When Jean arched an eyebrow at her, she quickly added, "She didn't throw the picture at me, she was aiming a cushion at me and –well- you know what happened next." She avoided Jean's questioning gaze.

"I can guess. What's up with Rogue and Remy, Kitty?"

Kitty looked her straight in the eyes and said softly, "I don't know Jean; she won't tell me She won't tell anyone."

She shuffled her feet uncomfortably, feeling slightly guilty, then said, "Does the Professor-"

Jean cut her off. "If he does, he won't say anything. He'd want her to solve her problems herself because this isn't his business."

Kitty nodded and thoughtfully said, "Rogue wouldn't appreciate it if anyone was lurking around in her head. Like, she'd go nuts!"

Jean carefully said, "She could go nuts sitting alone with all her thoughts running in her head. Rogue could use a vacation."

Kitty scoffed. "Like, what good would that do? It's her impromptu vacation that's done this to her. Who knows what goes in between those two, or what happened on that 'vacation'?" She punctuated the last word with a snort, lifting her hands up in despair.

Jean turned to look out of the nearby window. "I didn't think of that." she admitted. "But I didn't mean that kind of vacation. A vacation with all of us. Remember that cruise?" she said, with a dreamy smile appearing on her face.

Kitty stared at her. "She doesn't need a vacation! What we need to do is chain them both to two chairs in the same room and _make_ them _talk_ to each other-"

"Under controlled conditions." Jean added.

Kitty nodded furiously. "Yup, under controlled conditions- and make them talk to each other- like, _really_ talk. Something beyond the encoded stuff they say to each other. It drives them crazy you know." She paused, sucking in a breath.

"I don't think we can do anything like that. The best thing to do is make them talk and _want_ to talk to each other."

Kitty said, "I think I'm just gonna go clean up the mess in the living room. This is too complicated for me to figure out."

Jean sighed. "And here I thought you were an expert on her man-troubles."

Kitty could only scoff in response.

***

Back in the living room, Rogue had turned off the vacuum cleaner and now was sitting dejectedly on the sofa again, still fuming. _What does dat swamp rat think he is? If he walks in here, Ah'm gonna-_

The muffled sound of a footstep reverberated at the door.

Rogue looked up, the explosive anger boiling deep in her, the noxious vapors ready to ignite it.

A head popped in, followed by the goddamn-awful, ever-present trench coat-clad body.

She looked on, her hand reaching instinctively for the nearest cushion. Now was her chance. As Remy Lebeau walked in, he was ambushed by Rogue, who hurled the green cushion at him with the accuracy of a ballistic missile.

"Ya good-for-nothing, lying, deceitful-" The words spewed forth like a spray of bullets, and with each enunciation, Rogue stepped forward and threw anything within her range towards Remy, who ducked and avoided them, confused.

"Rogue, stop!" he shouted. His plea fell on deaf ears. "Y' acting like some bit-"

A shoe hit him on the shoulder, followed by what looked like some part of the vacuum cleaner. The machine missed him and landed with a muted clunk somewhere behind him.

Resigned, Remy groaned and decided to do the one thing that annoyed Rogue the most, yet managed to shut her up too. As she strode towards him, angrily shouting illegible words in her syrupy Southern accent, he flung himself at her and knocked her backwards to the ground, her splayed fingers narrowly missing his eyes but tearing at a breast pocket of his trench coat. As it tore open with a ripping sound, a pack of cards imploded- hearts, diamonds, spades and clubs landing in a great flurry of disarray, swirling in the draft from the window like absurdly large snowflakes around Remy and Rogue. Both landed in a heap together on the carpet, with Rogue's painful grunt marking the moment of contact with the floor. The last of the cards fell, leaving Remy on top of Rogue, staring into each others eyes, scattered cards around them like flower petals from a wedding gone.

Time almost stood still as Remy stared into at Rogue who was wearing a dumfounded expression, he lips contorted in an O of surprise.

Rogue squirmed, her breath coming in short, quick gasps but didn't say anything, the sudden weight like a rolled gym sock in her mouth, her hair spilling over the floor as the tignon slipped off. Combined with the murderous look on her face, the effect was almost demented. Remy bit back a laugh, gave her an exasperated look, and then unwillingly rolled off her to the left. He lay on his back beside her, his arm a bare two inches from hers. Rogue pretended not to notice, as they both stared up at the ceiling in a rather painful silence. Rogue could feel her heartbeat quicken and thud faster in her ears. She shifted uncomfortably, wondering whether he would stop having such an effect on her.

"Damn it, ya dirtbag, y' called me a bitch," she breathed.

"Well, y' been acting like one now, _Spongebob_." Remy fired back, sliding his arm along the floor so that it brushed her side. Rogue cringed, fighting back the sudden image that had cropped up in her mind that involved her ripping the swamp rat's arm out of its socket.

"Ah haven't." Rogue said defensively. "Ah just talked t' you once this morning, and you told me t' go t' hell. Ah can't believe y' said that."

I can't believe y' absorbed me." He said quietly. "I told y' I ain't ready t' tell y' 'bout m' life. An' y' just lunged out an' took a piece o' m'… I can't forgive y', not yet." He turned his head to look at her. She lay still, as if the life had gone out of her, an occasional rise and fall of the chest indicating presence of breath. Her gloved hand closed around his.

Ironically, a Queen of Hearts card lay between their heads.

***

Notes:

As always, thanks for the reviews. I really appreciate each and everyone, since I wrote the last chapter again and again repeatedly, until it felt okay. I know I'm no first class writer, so if you are confused by my writing style just ask and I'll explain!

The first ROMY exchange: Kinda like Remy's angry and Rogue is confused, so all the while they're talking their nerves are on edge. Not really responsible for what I made them say.

Belladonna and Mattie: Needless to say, I found it impossible to write Bella as I know little of her character, as well as Mattie. However, Bella's going to the tomb is showing that she will do anything to get Remy back for her own means. Nuff said.

Marie Laveau I: She was a famous and powerful voodoo priestess who lived in New Orleans in the 19th century. Renowned in life with a successful career, and revered in death, some say she continues to work her magic from beyond the grave. Her tomb is in the famous St. Louis cemetery, no.1.

Dangers of the cemetery: Yes, those places are dangerous to go alone to, or after dark, for they have more dangers of a physical kind than spiritual. Ghosts- if they exist- are nothing to worry about. Humans are.

The second ROMY exchange: Here, since they are quieter, they can actually think about what they said and what happened before (Remy's absorption). Rest of the conversation will be in the next chapter.

I have decided to re-write the cheesier parts of previous chapters, as when I tried to read them my teeth hurt. So yeah, updates might be late!

Review, please. I'd like to know whether I've done the characters any justice!


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